


The Bodyguard

by LetticeDouffet



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Childhood Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Nevmione, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 44,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27355171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetticeDouffet/pseuds/LetticeDouffet
Summary: When Neville volunteered to act as Hermione’s undercover bodyguard for a night, they had no way of knowing that they’d soon be plunged into a series of perilous situations that would bring past regrets and long buried feelings to light.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger/Neville Longbottom
Comments: 30
Kudos: 75





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 - Old Friends**

"You're being ridiculous and overprotective, Harry!"

"And you're being pigheaded and obstinate, Hermione!"

The bushy haired witch raised an eyebrow, more at the choice of words than at the accusation. "Obstinate?"

Her friend shifted his feet. "It was yesterday's word of the day on the calendar you gave Teddy. Thought it might come in handy."

"Well, I'm glad to see your vocabulary is expanding but the point remains that you are blowing this whole thing entirely out of proportion."

"You are receiving _death threats_ , Hermione. I fail to see how my recommendation of a bodyguard is out of proportion."

"Because this is nothing new, Harry! I've gotten hate mail ever since I started working at the ministry three years ago. Not to mention the letters I received when we were at school. Or have you forgotten the sort of things your "admirers" sent me during the tournament when Rita Skeeter implied that I'd broken your heart?"

"And have _you_ forgotten that one of _those_ letters contained undiluted bubotuber puss which burned your hands so badly you ended up in the Hospital Wing?"

Hermione grabbed a stack of papers from her desk. "I was fine."

"You could've been permanently maimed!" 

"But I wasn't, was I?" Hermione threw the papers into a file and slammed the cabinet drawer shut for emphasis.

"Only by sheer dumb luck!"

"Well, you certainly ought to be able to recognize that," Hermione snapped. She blew a stray piece of hair from her face and dropped down into her chair. "I'm sorry, Harry. That was uncalled for."

Harry took a seat across from her. "No worries. I suppose this is what it felt like?"

"What do you mean?"

"We seem to be having our same old argument in reverse. This must be how you felt every time you tried to get me to see reason and I stubbornly refused." He ducked as a volley of paper wads came flying at his head.

"Oi! What was that for?" 

Hermione tried to look cross but failed. "It's for being a prat."

"I'm a prat that wants to keep his best friend alive as long as possible."

"I know, Harry, and I appreciate the sentiment but look at it from my perspective. If I start showing up places with a bodyguard over a few crank letters it's going to make me look weak and afraid and I refuse to give them that. I fight enough battles working here at the Ministry as a Muggle born championing controversial legislations. I don't need any more obstacles in my path."

"These aren't just crank letters, Hermione. You haven't seen the ones we've intercepted recently. Some of them are really vicious."

"It's just people blowing off steam over the upcoming Werewolf Act."

"Maybe. A few go way beyond that. Some are pretty sick."

"I'll be fine, Harry. I've faced worse." She unconsciously adjusted the sleeve of robe as she spoke.

"At least let me send someone to the gala with you tomorrow night."

"No! The press will be all over the place. The last thing I need is Rita Skeeter making me out to be some sort of helpless victim! I can see the headline now - 'She can't protect herself. How can she protect us?'"

"I can take you or we can pull Ron back from his assignment in Wales and..."

"Oh! Even better. Then they can write about me being a home wrecker. "

"You know Ginny or Susan won't care."

"But the rest of the Wizarding World _will_ care, Harry. I'm still struggling to get enough votes for the legislation. I don't need that on my plate as well."

"What if I came up with a compromise?"

"What sort of compromise?"

"Someone trained as an Auror that already has a personal connection to you. One that wouldn't raise any suspicions being seen with you in public. It would just look like a date."

"Harry, I've already said I won't go with either you or Ron and since Seamus is married to Dean and..."

Harry held up a hand to cut her off as he made his way to the door of her office. He peeked outside and waved somebody in.

"Will this do?" he asked.

"Neville!" Hermione rushed around her desk and threw her arms around her old schoolmate. "How are you?"

"I'm doing well," he said, returning the hug. "No one's threatened to kill me in over a month, which is more than I can say for you, young lady."

She smacked him playfully on the arm. "When did you get back to Britain?"  
  
"About three weeks ago."

"And I'm just now hearing about it?" Hermione gave Harry a cross look.

"Not Harry's fault," said Neville. "I had to go through an extensive debriefing followed by several lengthy exit interviews. Just now being allowed to see the light of day."

Hermione looked bewildered. "All that to leave a temporary Herbology post at Beauxbaton's?"

Neville glanced at Harry who gave him a nod. "It's okay. Kingsley agreed to give her clearance."

"Clearance for what?" she asked.

"May I?" asked Neville, gesturing towards one of the visitor chairs. Hermione nodded and they all took a seat. "I suppose you remember when I resigned from the Aurors last year?"

"Of course. I went to the going away party Harry threw when you accepted the job at Beauxbatons."

Harry blushed slightly. "Yeah...sorry about that. That was actually a bit of a show."

"What kind of show?"

"The kind that covered up the fact that I was still an Auror going undercover to help sniff out a major pipeline in the illegal trade of dangerous and endangered plants," said Neville. "We had information pointing to France as a significant distribution route so we used my 'resignation' as a smoke screen."

"Did it work?"

"Eventually. We managed to round up the last of the smugglers about a month ago without blowing my cover. I finished out the term, came home and put in my resignation for real this time." He smiled. "I promise I won't make you attend another party or buy me another gift."

"Thank you," Hermione grinned. "It's great to see you although I'm sorry Harry's trying to drag you into one of his preposterous schemes."

"Hermione, I really think you should listen to him." Neville leaned forward in his seat. "He let me read some of the recent letters. Some of them are deeply disturbing. I used a threat assessment spell to review them and I honestly believe there's a very present danger here."

"Threat assessment spell?"

Neville nodded. "It scans for specific words or phrases that indicate overt aggression or extreme malicious intent as well as detecting any residual dark magic left by the author. I got the idea from one of the articles on Muggle police work in the binder you gave us when we entered Auror training."

Hermione's face lit up. "You read the data I gathered?"

"Of course. There was a lot of good stuff in there. It was really helpful. I referenced it all the time."

"I'm so glad _you_ found it useful, Neville." Hermione gave Harry a look and the raven haired man suddenly became very interested in his shoes. 

"I meant to get around to reading it...." he muttered.

There was a half second of silence before all three burst into laughter.

"Right!" said Harry. "Now that we've established that not much has changed with any of us - do we have a deal about tomorrow?"

"Harry...." warned Hermione.

" 'Mione, if it were different circumstances I might back down but the security for the gala is going to be a nightmare. The people hosting the event insist on holding it outside in the new Memorial Garden which is going to make it almost impossible to ensure the perimeters are properly locked down. The last thing I need to be worried about all evening is the life of my best friend. Please, for me, at least consider it."

When Hermione hesitated, Neville shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Listen, if it's just the fact you don't want to go with _me_ , then..."

"No! That's not it at all!" Hermione rushed to reassure him. "I'd love to go with you, Nev! It's been ages since I've seen you and it would be great to spend an evening at one of these events with someone who can discuss something other than office gossip or quidditch scores. I just don't want to compromise any potential relationships you may already have by getting linked with me in the press."

"Not a problem. Nev's single," proclaimed Harry.

"Honestly?" Hermione asked, glancing at the wizard in question.

"Cross my currently unattached heart," said Neville, making the appropriate hand gesture over his chest.

"Excellent! All settled!" Harry jumped out of his chair. "I'll leave you two to sort out the details. I've got a meeting with Kingsley so I'll see you kids later."

Hermione and Neville laughed as their friend bolted out the door. 

"Okay, Nev - now that Harry's gone, please, tell me the truth - is going with me tomorrow going to interfere with your love life? I don't want to make trouble for you or have a jealous witch coming after me for poaching her wizard."

"Nope. No one."

"I find that hard to believe - a clever, handsome war hero like yourself," she teased gently.

"I can turn that right around - there ought to be a list of eligible bachelors fighting to escort a witch as bright and beautiful as you."

Hermione averted her eyes at the compliment. "I don't know if I'd go that far..."

"I would. Seriously, Hermione - there have to be dozens of blokes that want to go with you."

"There are people who want to be seen with a member of the 'Golden Trio'..." Hermione grimaced as she made air quotes with her hands. "However, finding someone who actually wants to spend time with plain old Hermione Granger? That's another thing entirely."

Neville nodded, "Ah. The old 'do you want me' or 'want to be _seen_ with me' question."

"Exactly. I'm sure you go through the same thing."

"Not to the level you experience I’m sure, but yeah. It's one thing when it's someone you knew beforehand but when you meet new people it's always in the back of your mind - do they like _me_ or the _idea_ of me?"

"Or do they like the idea of the _money_ they'll get when they sell our conversations to the tabloids?"   
  
"Merlin! Did that happen to you?"

"No. Close call though. Met a man at the local coffee shop. We ended up ordering the same drink and started chatting. He seemed like a nice guy. Invited me for dinner. The day before our date I was out shopping with Luna and caught sight of him across the street. She recognized him as one of Rita Skeeter's network. Turns out he'd tried to sell stories like that to the Quibbler before. "

"Ouch. That had to hurt."

"Sadly, the worst part is it's made it almost impossible to get coffee there anymore. Shame. No place else ever gets my order right." Hermione gave a weak shrug then attempted to shift the conversation. "So - have you heard from Luna recently?"

"Had dinner with her and Rolf a few months ago when they were passing through Toulouse. She'd recently spotted a rare form of Dracaena and brought me a cutting for my collection."

"I was always a little sad that the two of you didn't work out. On paper you seemed like the perfect couple."

"Well, you know how it is. Luna's great and I love her but we both realized pretty quick that we were better suited as friends."

"I believe I am familiar with that particular relationship dynamic," said Hermione.

"Touché. Speaking of, how's Ron these days?"

"He's doing really well. Marriage and fatherhood suits him. Now that his wife is expecting again he's thinking of hanging up his Auror robes and going to help George at the shop full time."

"How many will that be for him now?"

"Three."

"Wow! How are Susan and the kids?"

"They're all great. Amelia's almost one and Gideon turned three last week. They had a big party. I may still have chocolate icing in my hair." Hermione smiled as she twirled a quill in her fingers. "Do you ever hear from Hannah?"

"We keep in touch. She and Padma are very happy together."

"And no one at Beauxbaton's?"

"I dated the charms teacher for a while. She was pretty and nice but there was no..." He searched for the right word.

"Spark?" Hermione prompted.

"Exactly. Don't get me wrong. It was all very pleasant..."

"Nev, you're a wonderful man," Hermione cut in. "You deserve more than 'nice' and 'pleasant."

This time it was Neville's turn to shrug. "Be that as it may, she felt the same so once the assignment was over we mutually ended things and I returned home." He leaned back in his chair. "Now. Enough about me. What about you? I know you and Ron moved on years ago. What about Victor Krum? Papers still link you two from time to time. He isn't going to swoop in and hurl a bludger at my head if we're seen together, is he?"

"Hardly! You obviously haven't seen the _latest_ headlines, have you?" She held up the most recent copy of Witch Weekly magazine showing Krum alongside an imposing looking woman. "Viktor's engaged."

Neville studied the picture. "My. She looks..."

"I believe the word you're searching for is 'formidable."

"I was going to say terrifying but your way is far more diplomatic."

Hermione laughed. "I believe either works in this situation. She's a professional dragon wrangler. Viktor sent this to me yesterday. He seems very happy."

"What about you?"

"What about me?" 

"Are _you_ happy?"

She folded her hands and considered a spot on her desk. "That's a complicated question, Nev."

"Okay. How about an easier one, then? Are you seeing anyone at the moment?"

"No. Between the near miss with the coffee shop guy and the cheesy pickup lines I was subjected to on the rare occasions I'd go out with Ginny and the girls, I've abandoned that part of my life for the moment."

"Heard some real doozies, did you?"

"Yeah. The last straw was when someone actually said, "Let me know if you ever want to check out _my_ restricted section.' That's when I threw in the towel."

Neville barked out a laugh. "A bloke did _not_ actually say that to you."

"He most certainly did."

"What a twat! On behalf of my entire gender I extend my sincerest apologies." He stood and bowed slightly. "I know it's only a drop in the bucket but could I start making it up to you by buying you lunch?"

"Oh! I'd love to Nev but I already ate and I've got a mountain of paperwork to get through this afternoon."

"Fair enough. I'll be in the building tomorrow morning to sign a few more documents for Kingsley. How about I pick up a coffee for you on my way? Give you an excuse to avoid the dreaded shop. We can work out the details about the gala then."

" _That_ would be wonderful. Thank you." She scribbled on a scrap of parchment and handed it to him. "The shops just around the corner and this is my usual, if you don't mind?"

He stifled a chuckle as he read the complex order. "Seriously?"

Hermione blushed. "What? It's not that silly - is it?"

"Not silly at all, just remarkably...thorough." Neville gave her a reassuring wink as he tucked it into his pocket and started towards the door. "I'll drop by about eight?"

"Sounds perfect. I still want to hear more about this threat assessment spell you've worked out."

"I'll try and remember to bring my notes with me."

"I look forward to it. And Nev?"

He stopped and glanced over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"It's really good to see you again."

"Really good to see you too, Hermione." He gave a small wave as he slipped out the door. Hermione stared after him for almost a full minute before shaking her head firmly and digging back into her work.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 - Poison Pen**

"Miss Granger?"

"Yes, Margaret?"

"That tall, good looking gentleman from yesterday is back to see you."

Hermione glanced from the clock to the eager face of her young secretary. "Thank you, Margaret. Send him in."

The petite blonde escorted Neville inside then lingered at the threshold. Hermione smiled kindly. "That will be all, Margaret."

The girl sighed and closed the door behind her as Neville deposited a cup on Hermione's desk. "Here you go. Sorry I'm a bit early. Hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"You're fine. Margaret's just not used to me entertaining visitors." Hermione took a sip of her drink and hummed contentedly. "Oh. Merlin. Finally. A proper coffee. Thank you, Neville. You're a saint."

"You seriously drink that on a regular basis?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I had them pour out a little in separate cup for me to taste."

"What did you think?"

"Honestly?" He made a face. "No offense but I think the fact that someone else ordered the exact same thing ought to have been a clue something was up with the guy, Hermione."

Hermione began giggling in a way that surprised even her. "I suppose you're right. It is definitely an acquired taste."

"So's swamp water. Doesn't mean you should drink it," teased Neville.

"Fine. Laugh all you want. Just means more for me, then." Hermione smiled and took another long sip. "Now. If you're done critiquing my beverage choices, why don't you show me this spell you've come up with."

"Right. Got my notes here." Neville pulled some papers from an inside pocket of his robe then looked at her and grinned.

"What?"

"You've got foam on your nose."

"Oh, Merlin!" Hermione began digging in her desk for a tissue. 

"Here you go," Neville said, producing a clean but slightly tattered handkerchief from his robe.

"Thank you," she said, gently dabbing her face. "Did I get it?"

"Yep."

"Then why are you still looking at me like that?"

"Sorry. Just thinking of the first time we ordered butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks. Remember?"

"How could I forget? I kept getting the foam up my nose."

"Better than me. I spilt more than I consumed. You'd have thought I was drinking fire whiskey the way I was shaking."

"You were nervous. We all were." She shook her head. "For two people who desperately wanted to fit in we sure found enough ways to make spectacles of ourselves, though, didn't we?"

Neville smiled in agreement then cleared his throat and placed the papers in front of her.

"So, here's the basic process I went through to develop the spell you asked about. It's a variation on a revelio charm..."

Hermione peered at his notations. "I see you've used Scarpin as a foundation."

Neville nodded, obviously pleased that she'd noticed. "Yes, but then I wove in theorems from Goshawk and Wenlock as well."

Hermione's eyes lit up. "I think I see what you've done here! You've taken..."

She was cut short by a loud pecking noise at her window. They turned to see a small owl grasping a letter, tapping furiously at the glass. With a flick of her wand, Hermione unfastened the latch. The bird swooped in and dropped the message on her desk before perching on the back of a nearby chair.

She was reaching for the parchment when Neville grabbed her wrist, causing her to jump.

"Sorry," he said, quickly releasing her. "Didn't mean to startle you but look at his talons."

She glanced over and nodded. "You're right. They're coated with something." She leaned closer to better inspect the bird's sharp claws. "What is that?"

"Looks like some sort of paraffin."

"Why would someone do that?" she asked.

"My guess? To keep whatever's on that parchment from affecting him before he delivered it to you."

Neville dug around in his pocket and produced a bag, some tweezers and a pair of graphorn scale gloves. He donned the gloves and carefully picked up the paper with the tweezers before depositing it in the bag which sparked wildly with a crackling blue flame.

Hermione studied the process with intense fascination. "What is that?"

"Specimen bag I developed with a built in neutralizer charm. Temporarily disables various kinds of magic so I can get whatever material I've found safely to a lab for analysis. How it reacts when I put something inside gives me a preliminary idea of what I'm dealing with. Originally made it to transport potentially poisonous plants then later on I tweaked the spell to include other items."

She couldn't help but look impressed. "And what does that reaction tell you?"

He took a step back, making sure to hold the bag as far away from her as possible. "It tells me _this_ is some really nasty, dark arts kind of stuff, Hermione."

She took a deep breath. "Right. Okay. What do we do with it now?"

"We get it downstairs to the Auror lab and see if we can find someone with the proper background to give us more information."

"Well, I can help with that part at least." She picked up her wand and gestured towards the floo. "You arrange for the owl and the letter to be transported to the lab, I'll round us up an expert."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 - Lab Work**

"Hermione! You okay?" Harry charged down the basement hallway towards them as they exited the lift.

"I'm fine. Nev noticed something was wrong before either of us touched anything."

"Good man. Thanks, mate." Harry gave Neville a pat on the shoulder before gesturing towards the closed door marked "Authorized Personnel Only" in front of them. "Malfoy's finishing his initial tests. A couple more minutes then we can go in."

Neville's eyebrows lifted. "Malfoy? _Draco_ Malfoy? _That's_ your expert?"

Hermione nodded. "If you recall, both Draco and I both missed parts of our final year at school so we went back to complete our education. Not a lot of what they referred to as ‘eighth years' made that decision. We avoided each other for a while but were forced to pair up in some classes. After some rather 'spirited discussions' we eventually reached **..."** She struggled to find the correct word.

"A rapprochement?" prompted Neville.

"Oui! Ton français est très bon!"

"I don't know about that. Thankfully the students at Beauxbaton's spoke English well enough to understand my lectures. My French is okay but apparently they found my Northern accent a bit off putting."

"I think you sound delightful."

Harry cleared his throat. "I'm sure this is all 'delightful' but would you mind translating for those of us who still struggle with English?"

"Sorry. Rapprochement means a type of reconciliation," Hermione explained before turning back to Neville. "And you're right. I believe that would be the correct term. Too much water under the bridge to achieve what one might call a true 'friendship' but enough understanding to establish a truce and work together effectively. For all his faults - and there are many - Draco is incredibly clever, especially when it comes to alchemy and dissecting other people's spell work." 

"Pair that with his father's extensive collection of Dark Arts materials, which Malfoy voluntarily donated to the Ministry library upon Lucius' death, you get the expert we need in this situation," added Harry.

Just then the door swung open and a familiar voice drawled, "You may enter."

The trio made their way into an impressive laboratory, filled with all manner of cauldrons, beakers, bottles and glass fronted cabinets overflowing with books and ingredients. Standing in the middle of it all was Draco Malfoy, dressed in a well-worn, yet impeccably tailored lab coat. He lifted a pair of top of the line safety goggles from his face and nodded in their direction.

"Potter. Longbottom." He said the last name with a touch of surprise before turning to his other visitor. "Hermione."

This floored Neville. He'd never heard Malfoy use anyone's given name before. He was even more stunned at Hermione's response.

"Hello, Draco," she smiled warmly. "How's Astoria?"

"She's doing well. Thank you for asking. She's enjoying the tea you sent her."

"I'm glad. I'll have more delivered soon. And Scorpius?"

"They aren't called the terrible twos for no reason but he's great. Loves the stuffed ferret you got him for his birthday." The tall blonde made a face. "Don't think I'm going to forget that anytime soon."

"Be nice or I'll send him a toy hippogriff for Christmas," she said, pulling a face in return.

Neville gave Harry a questioning look. The other man simply shrugged. "I know. It's weird but you kind of get used to it after a while."

Harry reached for the parchment on the table in front of Draco only to get hit with a stinging jinx. 

"Don't touch anything, you idiot!" snapped Draco. 

Harry pulled back his hand, wincing in pain. "Ouch! That hurt!"

"Would have hurt a lot worse if I hadn't stopped you. I haven't worked out all the ingredients used on that so I can't promise to be able revive anyone who handles it without the proper protective gear."

"What _have_ you learned?" asked Neville.

"The preliminary assessment that Potter provided from you seems to be correct, Longbottom. There are a myriad of concealment and secrecy charms layered on this but the few ingredients I have been able to isolate are both rare and toxic."

Harry glared at Hermione. "Will you listen to me _now_ about the threat level?"

Hermione began to protest but Draco cut her off.

"As much as it pains me - and I must stress that it causes me actual, _physical_ pain to say this - I must concur with Potter and Longbottom. Whoever did this wasn't just mucking about. These aren't easy ingredients to get hold of, not to mention the time needed to actually brew the concoction. This isn't someone with a petty grudge, Granger. This is a person who's willing to play the long game if necessary and make no mistake regarding their intent. Whoever cooked this up unquestionably wants you dead."

The room went silent until Neville asked, "How long a brew time are we talking?"

"Hard to say without a more detailed work up. Could be as short as three weeks, could be as long as three months. Really depends on the specific combination of ingredients and the ultimate strength of the potion."

Harry glanced at Hermione. "When did you publically propose the werewolf legislation?"

"A month ago."

"So, for the time being we have no way of determining this person's motive or identity. Great." Harry paced around then looked at Draco. "How long will it take to figure out the brew time and specific ingredients?"

"Not sure. I'll need to reverse engineer the thing. Could take a few hours, could take a few days."

"Do what you can. If you need additional resources, let me know."

"Will do." Draco headed towards the door then paused. "Hermione?"

This time even she looked mildly surprised at this rare repeated use of a given name. "Yes, Draco?"

"Be careful. The amount of people whose very presence don't bore me senseless is small enough as it is. Don't need the number dwindling because of your stupid Gryffindor pride." He disappeared into the hallway before she had a chance to respond.

"Who the hell was that and what has he done with Draco Malfoy?" asked Neville.

"We caught him on a good day," Hermione chuckled. "Although I'll admit that Astoria and Scorpius have been a positive influence on him. He's transformed from completely intolerable to largely insufferable. I hold out great hope that one day he'll simply be a run of the mill pain in the arse."

"I'm glad you're able to find humor in this because I confess I'm having trouble finding the lighter side to an attempted assassination," said Harry dryly.

"Sorry. Dark humor has become one of my defense mechanisms," replied Hermione.

"I suppose asking you to back out of the gala is going to be a pointless exercise," said Harry.

"Yes, so don't even try. Can we keep this quiet? I don't need Skeeter in my face about 'poison pen' letters."

"Several people saw us moving the owl from your office so they'll guess that you're still receiving hate mail but only the three of us and Malfoy know the full story. I'll have to fill Kingsley in but I think we can keep the details under wraps for the time being."

Harry glanced at Neville. "Shacklebolt wants to see you as well. They hadn't processed your final paperwork yet. I think he wants to delay your resignation so your classification stays at its current level in light of all this."

Neville nodded. "Whatever we need to do to keep her safe."

"Nev, I don't want you to..."

"Hermione, I'd be going with you regardless of my job status. If remaining an Auror helps protect you then that's what I'm going to do."

"But..."

"No buts. I'm assuming you're going to insist on spending the rest of the day in your office as if nothing happened?"

"Of course."

"Hermione," Harry injected, "This person knows where you work."

" _Everyone_ knows where I work, Harry. It's not a state secret. Besides, an owl would have found me no matter where I was. At least here I was close to the lab."

The two men shared exasperated expressions but they knew better than to push her.   
  
"Fine,” said Neville. “Where and when shall I pick you up for the gala?"

"My flat at seven? You can floo directly from Harry's office."

"Seven it is. Please, try and keep out of trouble until then."

She was already halfway out the door as she called back over her shoulder, "I'll do my best!"

As she disappeared around the corner, Harry gave Neville a sympathetic look. "Good luck tonight, mate."

"Thanks. I think I'm going to need it."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 - Gala**

"Hermione! Seven o'clock! I'm here! Are you decent?" Neville kept his eyes closed as he stepped through the floo into her living room.

He heard a giggle then voice replied from the back. "I'm dressed. Don't know if I can claim anything further than that."

"I suppose that'll have to do," he laughed, opening his eyes to take in his surroundings.

"Trying to find the right jewelry. Give me a second, okay?"

"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere without you."

He wandered around the room, peering at the titles on the book shelves and noting the absence of any other personal effects.

"Been here long?"

"Two years next month."

"You like it?"

"It's okay. I spend most of my time at work so it's really just a place to eat, shower and sleep."

Her voice grew nearer and he turned in time to see her emerge from the hallway wearing a deep red velvet, halter style gown with long black silk gloves.

She did a slow spin to show off the outfit. "Well? What do you think?"

He forced himself to remember to breath. "I think it’s stunning. The color certainly draws the eye. Why not save everyone the trouble and just paint a target on yourself?"

She made a face as she finished fastening her ruby earrings. "On the off chance that Harry's right about tonight, if I make myself stand out there's less chance of accidental collateral damage. If someone wants me they can bloody well try for me but they can leave everyone else out of it."

She gave him a defiant look that he recognized all too well. He sighed, "Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose."

"You're right," she smiled. "The more things change, the more they _do_ stay the same."

"For better or worse, it would seem."

She stuck her tongue out, enjoying the childish gesture, then handed him her necklace. "If you're done impressing me with your language skills, could I ask you to help me with this? I forgot to put it on before the gloves."

For some reason standing so close to her suddenly had an adverse effect on his fine motor skills. It took him three tries but he ultimately accomplished the task. "There you go."

"Thank you! Sorry I didn't have time to do anything fancier with my hair and makeup. I got caught up with some last minute revisions on a new legislation and lost track of time." She gestured at what Neville thought was called some sort of updo. He didn't know the proper name for the hairstyle but he did notice how it accentuated her elegant neck.

"It - you - look beautiful."

"Thank you. You look quite dashing yourself," she said, admiring the strong figure he cut in his dress robes. "I shall have to keep a close eye out or some witch will whisk you away and leave me sitting all alone."

"Not a chance," Neville grinned then turned serious. "After what happened this morning is there any chance of me talking you out of this?"

"No. Not a chance."

"That's what I thought. Well, then..." He offered his arm. "Shall we?"

She smiled warmly and looped her arm through his. "We shall."

They entered her floo and moments later they stepped out onto a beautiful marble portico where a series of elaborate outdoor fireplaces had been erected to serve as arrival points to the gala. The entire space was decorated with thousands of fairy lights and soft music and conversation wafted around in the warm, early evening air.

At each floo stood an Auror checking invitations and credentials. Harry stepped forward in his formal uniform to greet them.

"Ah. Mr. Longbottom. Miss Granger.” He gave a smart bow and a wink. “I see you have your invitations and credentials but I suppose I should verify it's really you with some sort of question..." He grinned at Hermione. "What were the first words you ever said to me?"

Hermione glanced briefly at Neville then back to Harry and smiled. "I entered the compartment on the train where you were sitting with Ron on that first day and said, 'Have either of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one.'"

Neville looked incredulous. "That's _really_ the first thing you ever said to Harry?"

Both Hermione and Harry nodded. "Yes," she said. "Just think. If it hadn't been for you and your toad, I might never have properly met the pair of them and the entire history of the Wizarding World might be different."

The trio pondered that for a second before starting to laugh.

"Right," said Harry. "I suppose in fairness I should ask Neville something personal but I'm not sure he'd forgive me asking questions in front of you about our time sharing rooms at school or some of the more interesting undercover Auror operations...say, Devon for instance?"

As the blood seemed to drain from Neville's face, Hermione gamely stepped in to save him.

"I think I can resolve this. You're confident in my identity now, aren't you? So I'll ask a question only the real Hermione would know to ask and only the real Neville could answer."

She turned to her nervous friend. "Where did you and I go to practice dancing in the weeks before the Yule Ball?"

Neville breathed a sigh of relief. "The clock tower."

"Wait?! What?!" exclaimed Harry. "How come I've never heard about this?"

"Because you never asked," replied Hermione. "At the time, you and Ronald were too busy searching for dates and being generally insufferable so I asked Neville to help me. He wanted to gain a bit more confidence with the steps while I had very little experience wearing heels and needed to get used to dancing in them with someone taller than me. The situation was mutually advantageous."

"How did you manage this without the rest of us noticing?"

She averted her eyes and confessed, "I _may_ have borrowed your invisibility cloak a couple of times."

Seeing the shocked look on Harry's face she said, "It wasn't that difficult. Silly stairs only prevent boys from entering the girl’s dorms. They never thought of it going the other way around. Frightfully easy for a female to make their way inside when the lot of you were at Quidditch practice. I'd get the cloak then Neville and I would sneak away to the clock tower."

"Merlin's beard..." Harry shook his head in disbelief. "And I thought I knew the pair of you." 

"Yes, yes. We're full of surprises," Hermione said. "Now, can we join the party or are we going to keep playing at questions all evening?"

“By all means, go and enjoy yourselves.” Harry moved aside but whispered as they passed, “And for Merlin’s sake, stay safe, will you?”

“I’m with Neville and surrounded by Aurors. I’m as safe as possible, Harry,” she whispered back.

She and Neville entered the garden and took a moment to appreciate the time and effort that had been put into the layout. Each grouping of plants had been carefully selected to complement their accompanying memorial statues, creating an atmosphere that was both respectful and hopeful.

As they each took a drink from a passing server, Hermione teased, "What? You aren't going to insist on testing mine for poison first?"

"I would,” Neville replied, “Except Harry already assured me they checked the stock thoroughly before casting tamper proof charms on all the bottles and glasses." 

"Thought of everything, did you?" 

"I try and make sure the obvious loopholes are closed. Can't make things too easy on the buggers now, can we?"

"Good to know if someone kills me they've at least put forth an effort." 

Neville gave her a stern look. "That's not funny, Hermione." 

She dipped her head apologetically. "Sorry. Dark humor again."

They strolled around, admiring the grounds and engaging in the dreaded small talk with their fellow guests, much of which - as Hermione predicted - consisting of office gossip and quidditch scores. When she had a chance, Hermione would point out a few of the key players, many of whom Neville recognized as either friends of his Grandmother or as government officials he'd come into contact with as an Auror.

When an opportunity presented itself, he guided her over by a large fountain so they could enjoy a quiet moment. They settled in on a wrought iron love seat and sipped their champagne.

"So tell me about this werewolf legislation you're working on."

"Well, as you know, we've managed to overturn many of the blatantly anti-werewolf laws that Umbridge pushed through a few years ago. This new act is about helping those who need it get the assistance they require to achieve some sense of normalcy."

"How so?" Neville asked.

"One of the main things is allowing people to request support anonymously."

"What kind of support?"

"Financial for one. The stigma around lycanthropy creates a vicious cycle. The person is often discriminated against in regards to employment, either being denied work entirely or being forced to take menial jobs that are far below their education or abilities."

"Like Professor Lupin."

"Exactly. The resulting loss of income makes it nearly impossible to regularly take their Wolfsbane potion, due to the high cost of the ingredients, which then leads to more attacks which lead to greater stigma which..."

"Leads to more discrimination.... I see your point."

"Past attempts to fix the problem have failed because they forced people to publically declare their status before they could even be considered for help but the fear of how they'd be treated kept almost all of them in the shadows. They'd rather take their chances in the forest a few days a year than risk being shunned by friends and family the rest of the time."

"Still? I thought publication of the post war trial transcripts would've changed public sentiment."

Hermione shook her head. "Accounts of heroic acts by the likes of Remus and Bill Weasley have helped but for every positive story there's another horrific tale about Greyback and his 'friends'."

"That's rough," he said, finishing his drink. "You know, I think what you're proposing makes a lot of sense. Seems to benefit everybody in the long run."

"I wish everyone felt that way. It's getting quite a lot of push back from certain small but vocal factions."

"Imagine that. People fearing change."  
  
"Especially change put forward by someone like me."

He placed his free hand on top of hers. "I'm sorry you still have to deal with that."

She smiled and squeezed his fingers. "Thank you, Nev."

He noticed her fidgeting with her glass. "This legislation is really important to you, isn't it?"

"Yes. Yes, it is."

"That's why you insisted on attending. Even without the death threats, these things make you uncomfortable, don't they?"

She sighed and nodded. "Yes, but it's expected of me."

"I know how you feel. That was one of the nice things about being at Beauxbatons. While I missed my friends it was nice to not feel obligated to attend a constant stream of war memorials, fund raisers and ribbon cuttings."

"Sorry to drag you back into the fray."

He leaned over and nudged her with his elbow. "No worries. I'll do this every night if you need me to. The company is more than worth it."

"You're too kind."

"Nonsense." He gestured towards her drink. "I see that you're glass is empty. Would you like another?"

"Yes, please."

He took her glass, stood and asked in a half joking tone, "Be okay by yourself for a minute?"

She lifted her chin. "What do you think?"

"I think someone out there doesn't have the foggiest idea of who the hell they're messing with."

"Thank you, Nev. I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should. It's how I meant it."

He made his way to the bar and got two more glasses of champagne. On his way back he saw Hermione was now on her feet having a conversation with Cormac McLaggen. Even from a distance he could tell by their body language that Cormac was hitting on her and she wasn't happy about it. Neville calmly approached and handed Hermione her drink while at the same time slipping his arm protectively around her waist in a subtle attempt to warn the other man off.

Cormac was either unable or unwilling to take the hint. "Hey! Longbottom! How are you? Long time no see! I was just telling Hermione here how she should stop by my flat and check out some new artwork that I've acquired."

Hermione leaned into Neville while giving him a tight smile. "And I was just telling Cormac that's what I have museums for."

Neville tugged her closer and addressed her as if the other man wasn't present. "Speaking of, I understand Dean Thomas is having an exhibition soon. We should go."

Hermione angled her body towards him, now aggressively ignoring the other man. "Really? How wonderful! I'd love to!"

Cormac seemed oblivious to the fact he was being cut out. He leaned in and gave her a lascivious wink. "Sorry to run, love. I've got to go check on my date. If you aren't interested in the paintings, I also have a bunch of old books. Drop by. You can check out my restricted section any time you'd like."

He sauntered away as Hermione's jaw dropped and Neville choked on his drink. They stood, mouths agape until she laid her head on her date's chest and snorted back a laugh.

"Sweet Circe," Neville coughed and tried to catch his breath. "I can't believe he actually said that."

"I can't believe his pickup lines haven't improved any since school."

Neville shook his head in disbelief. "Why didn't you just hex the guy?"

"I'd love to," she sighed. "Unfortunately, his father and uncle are both undecided votes on the upcoming legislation. Until it passes I have to play nice with the little twit."

"I'm sorry you have to deal with idiots like him."

"I'm just glad there's no mistletoe at this event. It'd be Slughorn's Christmas party all over again." She shivered in disgust. "Remember that night?"

"Of course I do," said Neville, taking a long sip of his drink. "Who do you think 'adjusted the recipe' on McLaggen's appetizers?"

Hermione's eyes flew wide. "You didn't!"

"Since I'm pretty sure the statute of limitations has expired on that sort of thing I can happily plead guilty to that offense."

"I always assumed that was just a gift of Merlin."

"Really? You never wondered why no one else got sick?"

"I suppose I was so relieved to have him out of the picture that I never questioned it." She giggled. "So, why'd you do it?"

"I saw how he was treating you that evening. Wasn't allowed to hex him in front of the faculty. Seemed like the next best thing."

She gasped in sudden realization "Wait! So that means _you're_ the reason he vomited all over Snape's shoes?!"

"I wish I could claim that I saw that part coming but honestly that _was_ just a gift from Merlin."

"Planned or not, it was brilliant!" Her smile fairly beamed. "You were a lifesaver that night, Neville. How can I ever repay you?"

He set his glass on a nearby table and motioned towards the dance floor. "Simple enough. How about a dance? I'm pretty sure I remember most of what you taught me in the clock tower."

She laid her glass beside his and took his hand. "I would love to."

They skirted the crowd and were just about to take their place amongst the swirling party guests when - in a split second - the world exploded around them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 - Attack**

Neville had just placed his hand on her waist for a waltz when out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of blinding green light. Operating on a combination of instinct and training he spun her out of the way as the spell missed them by a mere fraction of an inch, causing a nearby ice sculpture to explode in a thousand pieces.

In one fluid motion he drew his wand as he threw Hermione to the ground, using his free arm to brace her from the worst of the impact. He covered her body with his and quickly rolled them under a nearby marble bench for additional cover.

He heard her cough and shifted his weight slightly but remained on top of her, using himself as a shield.

"You okay?" he said, trying to be heard over the chaos which was now ensuing around them.

"Think so. You?"

He felt her trying to get up. He pulled her close and said in a gentle but firm tone, "I'm fine but you need to stay down until I tell you otherwise, okay?"

Something in his voice told her this was not the time to argue. "Okay."

A moment later they heard a familiar voice beside them. "Neville! Is she hurt?"

"I'm fine, Harry," came her muffled reply.

"Thank Merlin! Nev, how about you?"

"I'm good. Did you catch them?"

"No. Looks like whoever it was got away. I'm gonna need you to get her somewhere safe until we know what's going on."

"Copy that. We'll contact you later via patronus."

"Good man. Get her out of here and lay low until you hear from me."

"Will do." As Harry ran off Neville said, "Okay, Hermione? I need you to hold on. I'm going to apparate us somewhere safe but from this angle we might have a bumpy landing. Got it?"

He felt her tighten her grip on his robes. "Got it."

She felt the familiar twist and pull of apparation and seconds later they slammed onto a hardwood floor in a darkened room. Immediately they were on their feet, instinctively taking back to back defensive positions.

"Are you okay?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Fine. What kind of wards do we need?" He could tell she was in battle mode, her voice brisk and efficient, focused on the task at hand instead of what just happened.

"This place is pretty well locked down but a few more protegos and any masking spells you've got certainly won't hurt."

They cast every spell they could think of until Neville said, "I think we're good. Only thing getting through all that is a patronus."

He cast a lumos, revealing a large, old fashioned sitting room filled with antique furniture, ornate rugs and an inordinate amount of expensive looking bric-a-brac. Another flick of his wand and the massive fireplace roared to life, providing additional light and warmth to the space.

"Are you okay?"

Hermione turned to face him. "For the last time, I'm...." She stopped short when she saw his horrified expression. "What? What's wrong?"

"What's wrong is you're bleeding! Damn it, Hermione, you said you weren't hurt!" 

He pulled her over to a faded velvet divan in front of fire. He dropped to his knees in front of her, produced a handkerchief and began dabbing her face gently.

"What? Oh, that. Yeah. Sorry. Bit my lip when we hit the ground the first time."

He froze as his voice dropped to a whisper. "I did that to you?"

"I'm fine, Nev. Really."

"I'm so sorry, Hermione."

"Don't you dare apologize. You saved my life.” She stared at him for a moment before hitting him hard on the arm. "You idiot!"

"Ouch! What was that for?"

"That was for jumping in front of a killing curse! You could have died!" Her voice began to break as she fought back tears. "You could have..." 

She struggled to speak and found she couldn't finish the sentence.

"Shh...Hey. It's okay." Neville joined her on the divan and wrapped her into his arms. "I'm okay. You're okay. Everything's..."

"So help me, Neville Longbottom, if you say 'okay' one more time, I swear to Merlin I will hit you again." They both chuckled then there was silence until she whispered, "Someone is honestly trying to kill me. Again."

He tightened his hold on her. "Yeah. I know."  
  
"They almost succeeded."

"Trying not to think about that part."

"They almost got you as well."

"But they didn’t."

"Looks like once more I owe you my life."

He leaned back to look at her. "What are you talking about?"

She lifted her face towards his. "By my count this is at least the third life debt I owe you, Nev."

"How do you reckon?"

"Well, you carried me after I was injured by Death Eaters when we went after that blasted prophecy."

"As I bloody should have. I caused more harm that day than..."

"Rubbish," she said firmly. "You were incredibly brave. You saved me. Retrieved my wand. Refused to cave even when Bellatrix tortured you with Crucios." 

Her voice trembled and he recalled the stories of her own run-ins with Bellatrix La Strange.

"Then during the last battle you killed the snake just before it attacked Ron and I. Now tonight..."

"Hey. I promised to protect you and I did. Besides," he said, trying to lighten the mood, "I can't let anything happen to the girl who helped me find Trevor now, can I?"

"Trevor notwithstanding, I believe I've taken far more than I've given in this relationship." She made an effort to compose herself. "I suppose what I'm trying to say is I'm in your debt once more and I've no idea of how to repay you."

"I do."

"How?"

He laid his hands on her shoulders. "Don't die. Really all I ask, okay?"

She hugged him hard and he hissed in pain, causing her to jump. "Nev! What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just a little sore. May have bruised a rib."

"Wouldn't surprise me. You took the worst of everything back there. Let me give you something for that." She summoned her bag and rummaged around inside.

He couldn't help but smile as her arm disappeared up to her shoulder. "Still using the extension charm, I see."

"What can I say? Comes in handy." She began pulling out a wide variety of bottles and canisters and laying them out on a low table next to them.

"I thought you didn't believe our warnings. Why are you packing all this?"

She continued producing items and sorting them into groups. "I never stopped. Residual baggage from the war."'

"Hold on,” he said, gently stopping her. “Before you do anything else, send your patronus to show Harry you're okay. He'll be beside himself with worry until he hears from you."

"I suppose you're right." She stood and moved to the middle of the room. "Shall I tell him where we are?"

"Best not be too specific until we know what we're dealing with. We can't be sure who'll be around when you reach him and we aren't sure who we can trust other than him at this point. He and I established some code phrases when we started in the Aurors. Tell him 'we're safe as a gerbil in a handbag'. He'll know what that means."

"Fine. There's a bottle of dittany and wiggenweld on the table. Drink some of that. It’s a little sour but I’ve added some mint so it’s not too bad. Help yourself some murtlap balm and star grass salve while you're at it."

"Quite the collection you've amassed."

"You know what they say - be prepared."

It took a moment for her to center herself and find a memory that allowed her to conjure her patronus and let Harry know they were safe. After sending her otter off with the message she finally spared a moment to take in their surroundings.

"Is this your home?" she asked, wandering around the room to study the furniture and decor.

"I suppose. It was Gran's place. I inherited it when she died. I didn’t spent much time here after she passed other than tending the greenhouses but I moved in when I got back from this last assignment. Like you said - somewhere to eat, sleep and shower until I find a place that feels more like my own. For security and privacy I cast a bunch of wards around the property before I left for France. Anyone outside the fence - with the exception of Harry who helped cast the spells - just sees an overgrown empty lot unless I say otherwise, so you ought to be safe here for the time being."

She relaxed a tiny bit upon hearing this news. "So - _this_ is where you grew up?" She had trouble envisioning someone like Neville in such stuffy, pretentious environment.

"Yeah. Homey isn't it?"

"It does seem a touch...overwhelming."

"Try seeing it through the eyes of a toddler. Some of the first words I ever learned were, 'Don't touch that!' "He waved his finger to emphasize his point.

"How old were you when you came here?"

"Eighteen months."

She moved back to the divan and rested her fingers on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Nev."

He briefly laid his hand upon hers then stood abruptly. "Right. My orders are to keep you under wraps until we hear from Harry and that could be a while. Apologies. I don't think I have any spare clothes in your size..."

She laughed and held up her bag. "I wasn't kidding about being prepared. First aid kits not the only thing I still carry around with me." She reached inside and produced an overnight case. "Is there somewhere I can change?"

He showed her the nearest loo and a few minutes later she reappeared - face washed, lip healed, hair now in a loose ponytail, wearing light blue flannel pajamas and a pair of purple fluffy slippers. Neville couldn't help but grin as he took it all in.

"Sorry," she said. "When I'm stressed I crave simplicity and the comforts of my childhood."

"No apologies needed. As stunning as you looked this evening I actually prefer you like this. _This_ is the Hermione I know." He took a seat on the divan. "So - do you want to talk about what happened tonight?"

"No," she said in a firm tone. "I can't do anything about it right now so, for the moment, I'd rather focus on something else entirely if it's all the same to you."

"Very well," he said, motioning for her to join him. "In that case, tell me more about this childhood you mentioned. You didn't talk about it much when we were at school."

"Probably because not many people seemed interested. When I did talk about it, you were one of the few that actually listened." She sat beside him, pulling a pillow onto her lap as she spoke. "Okay. Childhood. Not much to tell. Born in London to Mark and Alice Granger. My parents were dentists."

"I remember you talking about that at Slug's dinner."

"You do?"

"Yeah. You told how a kid bit your Dad one time."

"Yes! Robbie Fenwick. I can't believe you remembered that."

"I could always remember things that were meaningful to me. It was everything else I had trouble with," he said with a shrug. "Anyway, that story was kind of hard to forget. I always pictured your Dad as some sort of courageous lion tamer type after that. You know, bravely sticking his hands into the mouths of feral children."

"He would have liked that," she giggled and got a funny faraway look in her eyes then shook her head to refocus. "Right. So, I suppose I had a fairly normal childhood by Muggle standards. Home and family and all."

"What was your house like?"

"Nothing as grand as this. Just a regular two story, two bedroom house."

"Where'd you keep all your books?"

"Any flat surface that wasn't currently occupied. Dad finally put his foot down after he built the third bookcase. Said after that it was a 'one comes in, one goes out' policy."

"And how'd that work?"

"Pretty well...Until he found the stash under the bed."

"I figured you’d found a loophole," grinned Neville. "What did you do on the rare moments you weren't reading?"

"Normal things, I suppose. Muggle children start school when we're six years old, so once that time came homework and studying occupied a good portion of my time. Other than that? Theatre. Museums. Camping. Occasional holidays to France or Switzerland. Got my Hogwarts letter on my eleventh birthday. Bit of shock for everyone as we were completely unaware of any magical lineage. From that point on I read everything I could get my hands on regarding your world. Then I boarded the Express and met you."

"Your studies helped you a great deal. You were very confident on the train."

"Pure show and bluster. Inside I was a quivering jellyfish."

"It can't imagine what that must have been like for you. I'd spent my whole life in this world. My entire family had attended Hogwarts and I was still terrified. Then to top it all off I hadn't been on the train ten minutes when I lost Trevor. Good thing a brave little girl with unruly brown hair came to my rescue." He lightly tugged at a loose curl. "You know, you were one of the very first friends I ever made - and not just at school."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Until I went to Hogwarts my social circle was limited to family and Gran’s close friends. Most of them were elderly and came from the 'children should be neither seen nor heard' way of thinking. Rarely saw other children so my confidence and interpersonal skills with those my own age were certainly lacking by the time I left for school."

"Same here but for different reasons, I suppose. My parents always treated me like an adult so I never fit in with anyone my age, even before I started showing magical tendencies. Quite frankly being around other children terrified me."

"You couldn't tell from the way you introduced yourself on the train."

"Again, show and bluster. But you were easy to talk to. You were friendly and kind and how did I end up repaying you?" She ducked her head. "Petrifying you in the common room when you quite sensibly stood up to us."

He gently lifted her face. "Hey, it's okay. You did what you had to do. Besides, I got house points for it so no hard feelings."

They shared a smile then for the rest of the evening he tried his best to distract her with a stream of questions about Muggle schools, their educational system and their teaching protocols and, for a while, the pair almost forget why they were there in the first place. 

At one point he noticed her worrying the sleeve of her pajama top. He recalled the scar underneath and reached over to take her hand.

"Not to overstep, but I understand wanting to talk about something that you also desperately want to forget. Just so you know, if you ever need an ear, I'd be willing to listen."

"I appreciate that, Neville. Really I do. Maybe one day. But...not now. Not tonight."

He pulled his hand back and nodded. "I understand. No pressure. Whenever you want. I'll be here."

"I know." She surprised him by inching closer and laying her head on his shoulder. "Thank you."

He slipped his arm around her shoulders and they continued to talk until they both drifted off to sleep in front of the fire.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 - Workout**

Neville woke early and crept out of the room, making every effort not to wake Hermione in the process. He double checked all the protective wards before making his way to the room down the hall which he'd recently turned into a makeshift gym, where he sought the comfort of his morning routine.

He stripped off his dress shirt and kicked off his shoes, then dropped to the ground to begin his daily regime of pushups, sit ups and crunches. Once he finished those he grabbed the fortified curtain rod he'd mounted to the door frame as a pull up bar and started in with a series of chin ups, pull ups and leg raises. 

He then moved to a heavy bag he'd transfigured from a spare mattress he'd found in the attic. He wrapped his hands with strips made from old linens and began sparring. He got lost in the familiar rhythm until he was startled by soft "ahem" from behind him. He spun around to find Hermione standing in the doorway.

"Please tell me what that poor bag said to upset you so I know to avoid the topic."

"Started spouting off quidditch statistics, office gossip and cheesy pickup lines. I think you're safe." Neville wiped his hands on his sweat stained undershirt then summoned a towel for his face. 

"Good to know. You do this often?"

"Every morning."

"That's commitment."

"You find clarity in books and research. I find it in plants and physical exertion." 

"Exercise helps you focus, does it?"

He nodded as he draped the towel around his broad shoulders. "Also helps give me a sense of control. If I'm ever in a situation where magic can't help me I want to feel as if I've got options."

"Makes sense. Speaking of magic, perhaps later we can practice some defensive moves? It's been ages since I've taken the time to do that properly. Seems like I ought to given the circumstances."

"You're on." 

Without warning she pulled her wand from behind her ear. Almost simultaneously Neville summoned his wand and adopted a defensive stance. They stared each other down for a moment as he shifted his weight side to side.

"Nervous, Nev?"

"Against you? Of course. Anyone that says otherwise is a fool or a liar."

"You're certainly no fool."

He took a step closer, deliberating maintaining eye contact. She held her ground. "I'm no liar, either. I promise you that, Hermione Granger. You'll always get the truth from me. No matter what. I swear it."

She took a moment then slowly lowered her wand.

"Alright. Then answer me this. How'd you do that last night?"

"Do what?"

"Calm me down enough so I was able to sleep, even after everything that happened."

He shrugged and lowered his wand as well. "I've been told I'm very non-threatening."

"Whoever said that was mistaken. You're quiet and unassuming but there is a controlled assurance about you now that is equal parts commanding and comforting."

"I hope that was a compliment."

"It was. Very much so."

Neville felt a blush rising up his neck that was unconnected to his recent physical exertion. "Right. So. I'm sure I don't have the ingredients to make that foul concoction you normally drink but if you'll give me a minute to clean up I'll try and rustle you up a decent cup of coffee and some breakfast?"

"Perfect. Thank you."

Neville rushed to shower and dress then led Hermione to the kitchen for some much needed food and caffeinated beverages.

He was just about to pour a another cup when a blast of silver light burst into the room causing them both to jump and draw their wands. The light swirled furiously before solidifying into the figure of a majestic stag. 

"Merlin, Harry! A little warning next time!" cried Hermione.

"Sorry." The creature shook its antlers. "I'm outside. Let me in and I'll give you the latest."

The pair hurried to the front entrance. When they got there Neville insisted on positioning her to the side of the heavy oak door as he peeked through the spy hole before granting Harry entrance. The dark haired man barreled inside and swept Hermione into a bone crushing hug.

"Oi!" exclaimed Neville. "Careful! I worked hard to keep her in one piece! Don't need you charging in here and breaking her!"

"Sorry." Harry blushed and took a step back. "Just needed to make sure you were really okay."

"I'm fine, Harry. Nev's taken excellent care of me."

"Good man. Thanks, mate." Harry grabbed Neville's hand and shook it enthusiastically. "Seriously. Don't know what would've happened if it hadn't been for you."

"No thanks needed. Hermione's safe. That's all that matters. So - what's the word? Did you catch whoever's behind all this?"

"About that. Not good news, I'm afraid," said Harry. "Got someplace we can sit down?"

Neville led them into the sitting room where Harry dropped into a large, wingback chair. "Sorry, Hermione. No arrest and no real leads. Whoever did this managed to slip in _and_ out through some of our best security measures without a trace which makes them very good and very dangerous."

She stared at the ceiling for a moment then exhaled sharply. "Right. Okay. So - what's next?"

"What's next is you stay here where no one can get at you until we find whoever is doing this."

"No! I can't do that to Nev..."

"I don't mind," interrupted Neville. "Stay as long as you like. I've got loads of room. You won't be putting me out."

"Except for the fact that someone tried to kill me and almost got you in the process."

"And I have no intention of that situation repeating itself," Neville insisted.

"Nev, please. You could get hurt."

"So? After dealing with Voldemort I'll be damned if I'll let some coward who won't even show their face scare me. Someone out there is threatening my friend. I refuse to let that happen without a fight."

"Same here," chimed Harry.

Hermione looked at the determined faces of her friends before grudgingly relenting. "Fine. I'll stay here for a while but first I’ll need to go back to my office and my flat to get some things."

"I can do that for you," said Harry.

"No, Harry. I need specific files from my office plus much of the reference material I've been using is still in my flat."

Harry made a face before offering a compromise. "At least give me some time to arrange extra security at the Ministry before you go back there, okay? That will be the first place someone would look for you on a weekday morning."

"If it will ease your mind and get me back into my office then fine, yes, I agree." She sat across from him and leaned forward. "But first tell me - what the press is saying about all this?"

Harry pulled that morning's edition of the Daily Prophet from his pocket. "Kingsley managed to spin it in such a way as to cast some doubt as to whether you were the sole target. Best he could do but hopefully it will buy you some breathing room until the legislation comes up for a vote."

The majority of the front page was filled with a photo of the aftermath of the attack and an article that was short on facts and long on speculation. 

As she was reading Harry asked Neville for the use of the floo to arrange for the extra security. Before making the call he looked at his friend and grinned. "By the way, Nev. Be sure to check out the sidebar piece in the bottom corner. I think you’ll find it most interesting."

Hermione turned her attention to the article in question, penned by Rita Skeeter, entitled, "Explosive Secrets of the Granger / Longbottom Romance!"

Hermione groaned. "Oh, Nev. I'm so sorry."

Neville plucked the paper from her to scan the article and immediately started to laugh.

"What? What's so funny?" Hermione snatched the paper back and skimmed the contents until her jaw dropped. "Are they serious?! You're a war hero, a decorated Auror and a well-respected herbologist that performed an incredible, selfless act of heroism and the only way this half-baked harpie thinks to describe you is as 'Hermione Granger's eye candy'?!"

Neville continued to laugh as Hermione glared at him. "Stop it! Aren't you offended?"

He tried to regain his composure but failed miserably. "Sorry, but all I can think of is the look on my chubby little twelve year old face if I'd read that. I'd never have believed it but..."

"Don't talk about yourself like that." She smacked him with the newspaper. "You were adorable."

"Oh, yeah. The girls were beating a path to my door."

"At least your teeth were normal sized," she muttered.

"Hey. You were beautiful then and you're beautiful now. You just carry yourself with more confidence these days."

"Another illusion. I still feel like that gawky little girl on the inside."

"That's not entirely a bad thing. It's the people who don't remember what it was like to be small and scared that I worry about."

"You certainly have a point there."

"It's been known to happen. Now, come on." Neville took the paper from her in case she decided to use it as a weapon again. "Let's see if Harry's made the arrangements so we can collect your things and get you properly settled in."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 - Blast**

"Oh, bugger! There's Skeeter!" hissed Hermione as she and Neville made their way through the first check point at the Ministry.

"It's okay," reassured Neville. "She won't have the credentials to get through the next station. Just keep moving and we'll try to avoid her."

The pair weaved through the busy atrium and had almost made it to their destination when the annoying, garishly dressed journalist blocked their path and began battering Hermione with a barrage of intrusive questions about the current legislation, her love life and the prior night's attack, ending with, "Most importantly, how does it feel to know there's an assailant out there who may try and kill you at _any moment_?"

Before Hermione could tell the woman where she could stick her quill, her questions and her comments, Neville leaned over and said, "Actually, at the moment she's perfectly fine. You see, logistically speaking, the best point of attack is that way," He pointed over the reporter's shoulder. "...Which means you're currently standing in the line of fire. Seeing as how you're taller than Hermione, as long as you don't move she's safe as houses."

A terrified Rita Skeeter whipped around so fast that she almost lost her bejeweled spectacles and Neville used the opportunity to whisk Hermione through the next security point.

She gave him a grateful look. "Once again, I owe you Neville Longbottom."

"What? For turning that old bat's hair on end? Nothing to owe." He rested his hand briefly on the small of her back and guided her into the lift. "Consider that a gift."

Hermione once again marveled at his ability to calm her nerves and keep her mind off her current predicament. Unfortunately the sight that greeted her when she entered her office extinguished any feeling of contentment she'd previously enjoyed.

"Harry James Potter! What have you done?!"

Harry snapped to attention and approached her cautiously. "Hermione...calm down."

"Calm down!" She clenched her fists and Harry readied himself to duck if necessary. "What have you done to my files?!"

"In light of recent events I sent a team to go through your office looking for booby traps, listening devices and the like. I might have mentioned looking at some of your correspondence to gather handwriting comparisons to the recent letters. Apparently they were a little more...aggressive than I anticipated."

"Aggressive?! Look at this mess!" She flung her arms about to indicate the stacks of papers strewn over the desk, the window ledge and a good portion of the floor. "How I am supposed to find anything in THIS?!"

"Yes, well, preserving your life has temporarily superseded preserving your organizational system."

She gritted her teeth and he quickly reversed course. "H-however, I'm sure Margaret is more than capable of restoring order and providing me with all the information you need in a timely manner - aren't you Margaret?" 

He cast a pleading look to the young secretary standing in the doorway, who gave him a polite nod.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. I'd be happy to help."

"See? All sorted. Nothing to worry about" said Harry, nervously adjusting his collar.

"You best hope so, Harry Potter, or rogue assassins are going to be the least of your worries," Hermione growled. She summoned a parchment and quill and jotted down a list of items that she handed to her secretary.

"Here you go, Margaret. I'm terribly sorry you have to deal with this. Once you're done, please take the rest of the day off, with pay, for your trouble." She scowled at Harry and added, "And if that one shows up again and gives you any problems, I give you my express permission to hex him. Vigorously."

The young girl smiled warmly. "No worries, Miss Granger. We'll get it all sorted. Please keep safe. I don't want to lose the best boss I've ever had."

"Thank you, Margaret. Don't worry. I'm sure we'll have everything back to whatever passes for normal around here in no time." Hermione gave the girl a brief hug then marched out of the office, leaving both Harry and Neville racing to catch up with her. 

"Hermione, where are you going?" Harry panted.

She wheeled around and snapped. "I'm going home so I can pack some things - unless you're going to tell me you've released a demolition crew in there as well?"

Harry looked offended. "Even _I'm_ not that stupid, 'Mione. I was just going to suggest that you floo there directly from my office. The number of people living in your building means your address isn't really a secret. I know you've got the place warded but..."

Hermione's expression softened. "Sorry. You're probably right. I know you're doing your best but this has all been very frustrating."

"I know," Harry said. "I promise, Hermione, we're going to find whoever this is and get your life back to whatever passes for normal in our world very soon. I swear it."

Hermione couldn't help but smile at his attempt at humor. "Thank you, Harry. I appreciate that."

Minutes later she and Neville were in Harry's office, stepping through the floo into her flat. Neville had her wait by the fireplace while he verified the place was empty and everything looked safe. Once he was convinced the coast was clear Hermione packed the items she required while Neville prowled around, keeping a close eye on all possible entrance points. She was just heading back into the living room when there was a tremendous bang and the entire building shook violently.

In a flash, Neville was by her side, one arm wrapped firmly about her, the other casting a shield charm around them. Within seconds an entire team of Aurors came rushing from the floo, wands drawn, Harry at the lead.

"Hermione?! Nev?! Everybody okay?"

"We're good!" called Neville. "What the hell happened?"

Seamus Finnegan was already kneeling on the floor, feeling for vibrations as he cast a series of detection spells. "Explosion downstairs. Big one. I'll have to get a full ordnance squad in there but the initial readings make it pretty clear this were no accident. If ya weren't so good at spell casting, Hermione, this coulda been ugly."

"You're certain somebody did this on purpose?" asked Hermione.

"No question." The little Irishman looked at his friend with concern. "Sorry, lass, but I'm thinking whoever's upset with ya tried to get around yer wards by blowing up the flat beneath ya."

Hermione let that information sink in then looked at Harry. "How'd you all get here so quickly?"

"Don't be angry but when Ginny and I were here for dinner last week we cast a few wards of our own that would cause alarms to sound both in my office and at our home if something like this happened. I know. Invasion of privacy. You can yell at me later. Right now give me a second to let her know you're okay."

Harry went to contact his wife and for the first time Hermione noticed that Neville was still holding on to her. She didn't complain. Instead she tipped her head back onto his chest and whispered, "Someone really doesn't like me, Nev."

He leaned over and spoke quietly in her ear, "Doesn't matter because they're never going to get close enough to do anything about it, okay?"

She closed her eyes and adjusted her wand. "I need to tell you that I'm dangerously close to becoming very, _very_ angry with this person."

"Good," he said, tightening his grip on her waist. "Welcome to the club."  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 - Memories**

Harry was still consulting with his team when Neville asked the question that had been bothering him ever since the blast occurred.

"How'd they know she was home? We only decided to come here a few minutes before we arrived."

"According to Seamus there were sensors placed on the ceiling of the flat below that were linked to a timer," Harry said. "When the system detected someone walking around in here it started the activation sequence. Whoever it was must have rigged it up after their attempt at the gala failed."

"Was anyone hurt?" asked Hermione.

"We got lucky. The flat in question was unoccupied and the only injury seems to be a downstairs neighbor that was in the hallway at the time."

"Who?"

Harry checked his notebook. "A Mrs. Wren?"

"No!" Hermione gasped. "Was she hurt badly?"

"I don't think so. Sounds more like bumps and bruises. Possibly a slight concussion. She was taken to St. Mungo's for evaluation. More as a precaution than anything else."

"I need to see if she’s okay." Hermione started to push past him but Harry grabbed her elbow.

"Hold on! Someone just tried to kill you again! "

"Yes and because of that a sweet elderly woman that makes me cookies and brings me soup when she thinks I look unwell is now in hospital." Hermione fought the emotion building in her voice. "Before I do anything else I'm going to check on her. Period. End of discussion."

Neville stepped in before things grew more heated. "You know she won't rest until she does this, Harry. I'll go with her. We'll floo there, she can check on her friend then we'll apparate back to where we were last night." 

Knowing he was fighting a losing battle, Harry reluctantly agreed and soon Neville and Hermione were at St. Mungo's visiting the elderly Mrs. Wren, who assured her young friend that she was fine, thank you very much. She quite proudly informed them that she'd lived through two wars, three husbands and six children and it would take more than an explosion to bring her down. When Hermione hugged her, the woman loudly whispered a compliment on her taste in 'gentleman friends' that caused both Neville and Hermione to blush. 

As they left the room, Neville headed towards the nearest apparation point but Hermione stopped him.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"You've seen that your friend is okay. Now I'm getting you out of here."

"Not before visiting your parents."

"Hermione, we should really get you..."

"Not before visiting your parents," she repeated, stressing each word individually.

"We ought to..."

"I _insist_ , Neville. We can't be this close and not see them."

Neville wavered, torn between the desire to check on his family and the need to keep Hermione safe. "But I don't want you to end up _in_ hospital."

"It'll be fine. I promise. Come on," she said, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the stairs. "We'll go up the back way if it makes you feel better. It's just one floor up."

Before he could mount a proper argument they were entering the Janus Thickey Ward for patients suffering irreparable spell damage. As they neared the large doors they were welcomed warmly by the Matron.

"Mister Longbottom! So good to see you again! And Miss Granger! It can't be the second Tuesday of the month already!"

Neville tried to mask his surprise that the woman was so familiar with Hermione, who smiled and returned the greeting. "Hello, Miriam! We were visiting someone downstairs and thought we'd stop by. I hope that's okay."

"Not a problem at all, dear. Always glad to see our patient's families as well as our favorite patron."

Before Neville had the opportunity to ask questions, the motherly looking woman bustled around the desk and ushered them into the locked ward. He spotted his parents standing in the middle of the room and made his way over to them. 

"Hullo, Mum. Hullo, Dad."

The pair gave him a blank, polite smile then turned their attention back to the colorful bracelet adorning his mother's wrist.

"She's gotten ever so much pleasure out of that, Miss Granger," said Miriam.

Curiosity finally got the better of Neville, who blurted, "Okay. Hold on. What's going on here?"

"Don't you know? Miss Granger is one of our most involved patrons," the woman stated proudly. "She visits regularly _and_ she's responsible for establishing a consortium of magical hospitals around the world which share research and treatments for those suffering from severe spell damage."

"No. No, I did _not_ know that, Miriam," Neville said, staring at Hermione, who waved off the praise.

"I simply introduced the right people. It's healers like Miriam that do the real work."

"And that?" Neville asked, gesturing at the piece of jewelry that was the focus of his mother's attention.

"I was wearing it on my last visit. She seemed taken with it so I gave it to her." Hermione shrugged as she started walking towards an elderly couple sitting at a table along the far wall playing cards with used drink coasters. "You visit with your parents. I'm going to check on Agnes and Barnaby. In case you haven't noticed they get cranky if they feel they're being ignored."

Neville kept one eye on Hermione as he spoke quietly with his parents, telling them about his trip to France and how happy he was to be back so he could visit more frequently again.

He was relating his desire to one day teach Herbology full time at Hogwarts when Miriam approached. "We're about to serve lunch, Mr. Longbottom. Will you and Miss Granger be staying for that?"

"No, Miriam. Thank you but we really must be going." 

"We'll be back soon, though. I promise," said Hermione.

"As always, we look forward to it." 

The woman was escorting the pair out when Neville felt a soft tug on his sleeve. He turned to find his mother standing there with her hands extended. In her open palms were two cellophane candy wrappers, twisted and knotted in the middle so they now resembled butterflies. She stared at a spot somewhere past both of them but it was clear she wanted them to accept her offerings.

Neville and Hermione each took one. Neville placed one in his inside pocket while Hermione carefully deposited hers in her handbag.

"Thanks, Mum." Neville gave the woman a peck on her cheek.

"Thank you very much, Mrs. Longbottom. Stay well. I'll see you soon." Hermione waved fondly as they started towards the door.

As they made their way to the nearest apparation point Neville asked, "How long have you been visiting my parents?"

"I became a patron to the ward soon after the war. At first I visited on a quarterly basis. When you went to Beauxbaton's last year I started dropping in more frequently so I could check in on them."

"Why?"

"I liked seeing them. Knew you wouldn't be able to travel as much so I thought I'd fill in 'til you got back."

He studied her carefully as they continued down the hall. He felt there was more to the story but decided to wait and pursue the topic at a more opportune time.

They reached the designated spot and apparated back to Neville's place, where he showed her upstairs to a room across the hall from his own.

"You can have this one if you like. It's the largest of the guest rooms. Sorry, about the state of the place. I do know some housekeeping spells and I try to keep on top of things but the place is so big I tend to just focus on the spaces I use on a regular basis." 

Seeing the look on her face he added, "And before you ask - no. There are no house elves. Once Gran died I made sure the two that attended to her got jobs at Hogwarts. They make a decent wage and I even gave them a few of Gran's hats as presents when they left."

Hermione smiled at the thought of a pair of tiny elves bustling around the school wearing Augusta's elaborate headgear. "Thank you, Neville. The room is lovely. You've been an exceptional host and I appreciate everything you've done. Honestly."

He provided her with a supply of fresh towels and linens then left her alone to get settled into her temporary home.

Over dinner he followed her lead in regards to conversation, unsure how much of her current circumstances she wanted to talk about. She focused mainly on her anxiety about falling behind on her work and he promised that when the promised files arrived he'd help her set up an appropriate space in the family library.

The mention of a dedicated library immediately sparked her attention and he was barely able to convince her to finish her meal before showing it to her. 

"I was going to give you a proper tour of the whole place tomorrow, but if you insist..." He opened the door leading into a room filled with floor to ceiling bookshelves overflowing with volumes of all shapes and sizes.

Her eyes widened as she walked slowly around the space. 

"Help yourself to anything you need. Once Harry brings your paperwork feel free to take over the desk if you like or one of the reading tables if that works better for you. Should be plenty of parchment and ink on hand but if you need more just let me know."

She made her way to the large desk at the far end of the room. She ran a hand lightly over its dark mahogany surface before picking up a small photo in a simple silver frame. It showed a beautiful young, round faced woman with short hair holding a happy little boy in her arms. Next to them stood an attractive man whose eyes and jaw strongly resembled Neville's. They both looked lovingly at the child then all three smiled for the camera.

"Me and my folks. That was taken a week before they were attacked."

"Do you remember your parents at all? From before, I mean."

"Not really. What memories I do have I think I manufactured from stories I heard then repeated to myself so often they became real to me. Anything to stay connected to them, I suppose. That's why I carried my dad's wand until I was sixteen. I know it negatively affected my performance at school but it was a way to feel close to him, you know?"

He looked at Hermione and was startled to see tears running down her face. He reached for her but she recoiled from him. "Hey. What's wrong?"

She quickly wiped her face. "Nothing."

"You're crying. That's not nothing."

"I'm fine."

"I don't believe you."

She set the picture down and tried to walk away. "Are you saying I'm a liar?"

He gently took her by the elbow and turned her around. "I'm _saying_ I think there's something you aren't telling me and I wish you'd trust me enough to share whatever that is because it's obviously upsetting you."

"I - I can't."

"Why? Have you taken some sort of vow or something?"

"No. It's nothing like that, it's just..." She looked up and for one of the few times in his life, he saw genuine fear in her eyes.

"Hermione? What's wrong? You're starting to scare me."

"I can't. If I tell you, there's a chance you might hate me."

He moved his hands to her shoulders. "Let's get something straight right now. I said I'd always tell you the truth and the truth is that it would be physically impossible for me to hate you, Hermione Granger."

He saw tears forming again so pulled her down next to him onto a nearby window seat. " _Please_. Talk to me. Tell me what's got you so upset."

She burst into tears and he took her in his arms as she poured out the truth about her parents. They hadn't died in a car accident, as she'd led most everyone to believe. She admitted how she'd obliviated them to keep them safe from Voldemort and given them new memories and identities as Wendell and Monica Wilkins, then arranged for them to move to Australia to start new lives far away from the impending danger.

She then told how after the war she'd tracked them down only to realize that the spell had become so deeply embedded there was no way to reverse it without causing irrevocable brain damage. As hard as it had been for her she'd made the decision to leave them in their new lives. Only Harry, Ron, Kingsley and a handful of trusted Australian Ministry officials knew the truth.

He held her close and stroked her hair until she finished her story. "Is that why you became a patron at Janus Thickey and founded the consortium?"

"Yes. I thought if I couldn't help my parents maybe I could at least help someone else."

"I'm so sorry, Hermione. That must have been devastating for you. Why in the world would you ever think that I'd hate you for it?"

"After what happened to your family, I feared you'd think I was terrible for messing with my parents memories like that. For willingly giving up something that I know you wished you still had."

"You did what you had to do in order to save your parents' lives, Hermione. If I'd been in the same position I'd have done the exact same thing."

"Really?" she sniffed.

"Really. So let's not have any more rubbish about me hating you, okay?" He tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "Do you ever get to see them?"

"Not in person. Not since Harry and I found them and realized the truth. However, Kingsley has a cousin that lives not far from them in Melbourne. She serves as a Muggle liaison for the Australian Ministry. She has a camera so a few times a year she goes into the community and manages to get some pictures for me without drawing too much attention to herself."

She summoned a small photo album and handed it to him. He paged through the pictures, noting the strong resemblance between Hermione and her mother. He stopped at a photo of a cozy looking home with a well-kept yard and a large cat lounging in the front window.

He leaned in and squinted. "Is that Crookshanks?"

Hermione nodded. "After my parents left for Australia it soon became apparent that Harry, Ron and I were going to have to go underground for indeterminate period of time. I realized there was no way I could take Crooks with us so Harry got me in contact with a kneazle breeder by the name of Arabella Figg. She was able to use her network of contacts to ensure that a vaguely familiar stray cat arrived in a certain backyard in Melbourne. I understand he’s called Marmalade now."

"How do you feel about all of that?"

"Happy. Sad. Angry. Confused. The way I feel about many things in my life these days, unfortunately."

Neville racked his brain for something comforting to say but all he came up with was, "Yeah. I know."

He felt this was entirely inadequate but it seemed to satisfy the witch beside him so he settled for that.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 - Facing the Past**

"Are you sure you want to do this now?" Neville asked. After breakfast Hermione had insisted on going straight into their promised defensive drills.

She nodded. "I'm getting antsy and need something to do until Harry delivers my files."

"Okay but if you want to effectively practice defending yourself then it has to be in real world conditions and in the real world the bad guys don't announce their presence, they don't pull punches, they don't ask permission and..."

He abruptly flicked his wand to one side and bounced a stinging spell off a mirror which then flew into Hermione's backside, causing her to yelp more in surprise than in pain.

"...and they don't wait until you're ready."

Hermione narrowed her eyes as she rubbed the sore spot on her behind. 

"Oh. You're going to pay for that, Longbottom."

Neville adjusted the grip on his wand and arched an eyebrow. 

"Let's see you try, _Granger_."

Hermione was a little rusty at first but she quickly found her footing and soon they were trading spells at a furious pace, each landing an equal number of hits on the other. They went through all of the proscribed defensive drills as well as a few variants devised by Neville.

They called a truce and took a brief break for water. Once they'd rested, Hermione mentioned how she'd taken a Muggle self-defense course one summer and asked if she could practice some of those moves in case she ever found herself unable to use magic for whatever reason. 

"That's a good idea," agreed Neville. "Let's start with the most likely scenario. A reverse choke hold."  
  
They stood and he got in position behind her, talking about force and momentum. As soon as he reached around her neck, she dropped her chin to her chest, grabbed his arm with both hands, stepped to the side and elbowed him sharply in the gut. When he lurched forward to catch his breath she brought her arm up and caught him hard on the chin. As he reeled back she took advantage of the resulting loss of balance to redirect his weight and he landed hard on his back.

She leaned over and sweetly asked, "Something like that?"

"Yeah," he coughed. "Something like that would do in a pinch."

He struggled to sit up, grabbed his back and winced in pain causing Hermione’s self-satisfied smirk to turn quickly into an expression of concern.

"Merlin! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to actually hurt you."

She knelt down and lifted his shirt to check for injuries, stopping short when she saw the multitude of scars covering his torso.

"Oh, Nev. What happened?" she asked softly.

"Souvenirs from the Carrows," he shrugged, staring at the far wall. "They didn't like hearing the word 'no'."

"And they used dark magic to do this?"

He reached around and pulled down his shirt, all the while still looking in the other direction. "They didn't use any other kind."

He turned to face her, his gaze dropping briefly to her forearm before looking her in the eye. "So, you see, I meant what I said the other night about understanding certain things if you ever want to talk."

Hermione bit her lip and nodded but otherwise remained quiet.

Neville waited a moment then got to his feet. "Right. Harry should be here soon. Suppose we should get cleaned up and be ready when he arrives."

xxxx

Harry arrived thirty minutes later with the files Hermione had requested along with the information he'd managed to gather so far on potential suspects. 

The three staged a makeshift incident room in a corner of the library, with Hermione transfiguring a large, empty art frame into an evidence board to arrange the data Harry had collected.

"I started by interviewing those most vocally opposed to the recent reforms act you'd proposed," Harry said, writing the words "Anti-Werewolf" on the board. "Spoke with the Lavender Brown's dad, who is now working with Professor Picardy."

He put a photo up of an older man in a dark beard, holding a copy of a book entitled _'Lupine Lawlessness: Why Lycanthropes Don't Deserve to Live’_ by Prof. E. Picardy'. 

"While they obviously dislike the legislation and don't speak very fondly of you in general the group maintains they don't want any harm to come to you because - and I quote - 'Bad enough she's a war hero. Turning her into a bloody martyr only makes our job more difficult.' "

"Lovely," growled Neville. "I'd put them at the top of the list anyway, wouldn't you?"

"Agreed," said Harry. "Unfortunately they're not the only ones in the running. We can't discount this crew." 

Next on the board was a postwar newspaper clipping announcing the names of the death eaters sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban. Harry had mercifully snipped out the photo so Neville and Hermione were spared the likes of Greyback and the Carrows snarling back at them.

"We're running checks to make sure none of this lot has been communicating with the outside world, even to those who didn't fight on You Know Who's side during the war in case someone is unwittingly being used to pass messages along. That includes the guards and other prison staff."

Neville wrinkled his nose. "Something about this lot doesn't track with me. If it were them then why only Hermione? Why not all of us? Also they tend to want to make a big production of taking credit for the chaos they create."

Harry nodded. "You're right but we can't afford to rule them out."

The next picture he produced caused both Neville and Hermione to sit up. "Hold on!" exclaimed Hermione. "She's dead!"

Harry pinned up an old Ministry photo of Dolores Umbridge. "Is she? Remember, all we found in the forest were scraps of blood stained pink fabric and the tattered remains of her hat. Sure, it's likely she was killed but for the time being we have to assume that other options are possible. And if she is alive she'd certainly be hostile towards you."

"But she brings up the same questions as the Azkaban lot," said Hermione. "Why just me? Why not you or Neville or the Weasleys for that matter? And why after all this time?"

"I can't answer the first part but remember how long You Know Who laid low before returning? Again, we can't afford to presume anything until we have more evidence," Harry said.

He turned back to the board. "Those are the most likely suspects for the time being but there are others that still need to be considered."

He pinned up a photo of Rita Skeeter and Hermione snorted. "Oh, please. She knows better. Besides, if she wanted me dead she'd have tried something a long time ago."

"Maybe but she's still nervous about the fact that you're aware she's an unregistered animagus. She also knows where you live and work _and_ she had a press pass to the gala. Not to mention the fact that she has incriminating information on enough unsavory people to easily have the dirty work farmed out if necessary. She has to remain a option."

Neville arched an eyebrow at the animagus comment and Hermione whispered, "I'll tell you all about it later. It's a good story."

"Okay - next up..." Harry reached into his case and brought out a picture of Cormac.

Hermione barked out a laugh. "Come on, Harry! Really?"

"Hear me out. He's got a huge ego and he's never really gotten over your repeated rejections of him, going back to the Christmas party our sixth year. Your work consistently outclasses his at the Ministry, even though his father and uncle do their best to make him look good to his superiors and you know better than anyone what a world class sleaze he is regarding women in general."

"Yes, but..."

"And rumor has it that he keeps a wall of potential 'conquests' and your name is still on the list."

Neville unintentionally snapped the quill he'd been holding.

Hermione scoffed. "That's hardly breaking news, Harry. The women at the Ministry have known about that list for years. Any half eligible witch under the age of a hundred is on it."

The men beside her looked shocked. "Hold on!" Harry exclaimed. "If you've all known then why haven't any of you complained?"

"Who says we haven't? Alas, being a pig isn't a crime. Besides, we all learned early on what happens when you point out this sort of behavior to a primarily male dominated social structure. You get a pat on the head, an admonishment to 'not be so sensitive' - to 'take it as a compliment' - and a reminder that 'boys will be boys'. So until a guy like Cormac crosses some sort of flagrant line then all we can do is avoid him, call him out when he gets overly aggressive and leave the occasional disguised box of Nosebleed Nougats or Puking Pastilles on his desk."

Both Neville and Harry hung their heads, embarrassed by the accuracy of her statement.

"It's still not right that he treats you - any of you - with that sort of disrespect," muttered Neville.

"Thank you, Nev. I appreciate that. We all agree that he's a prat but getting back to him as a _suspect_ , we have to consider the parchment I was sent. You both have to admit Cormac is nowhere near clever enough to come up with enchantments that have the ability to stump Draco Malfoy."

"No," conceded Harry. "But he's got enough family money and influence to pay someone who could - plus he was at the gala so he stays up here until I'm convinced otherwise."

Next he opened his file and produced a picture of Romilda Vane.

"Oh, now you're just being ridiculous, Harry!"

"Come on, Hermione. We both know she's the one who's been selling 'inside information' on you to Rita Skeeter."

"Please! What I used to eat for breakfast or the kind of undergarments I wore as a teenager is hardly inside information. Besides, it's a pretty big leap from making a few galleons tattling on someone you used to share a room with at school to murder."

"I know it's a long shot but she's petty and vindictive and still blames you for the fact that she and I never dated."

"Harry, you're my best friend and I love you dearly but that ship sailed a long time ago. I'm sure she's moved on. If you insist on going that far back you may as well put up..."

Before she could finish Harry pinned up a picture of Milicent Bulstrode.

"What? No Pansy Parkinson?" joked Hermione.

"Thought about it," admitted Harry. "Except she's now married to a rich wizard from the States and by all accounts is enjoying the high life on a beach in Southern California. Been no sign of her travelling or even communicating with anyone in Britain for over a year. Probably safe to rule her out but I reserve the right to include her if I learn otherwise."

"What about our old pal Milicent?" asked Neville.

"Still trying to track her down. She moved to Germany after school and sort of fell off the map. I checked with Malfoy but he says he hasn't heard from her since the war. He was the only Slytherin in his year to go back to finish school, right?"

"Yes. After Draco and Narcissa’s actions came out during the post war trials most of the Slytherins from his year cut all ties with him. He didn't seem devastated by that fact. Apparently he wasn't any more successful making friends then as he is now."

Harry sighed. "Speaking of..."

The last photo he pulled out was of the platinum blond wizard himself.

"Harry..." Hermione cautioned.

"I'm sorry but in light of your past history with him I can't afford to overlook any possibility."

"Wait. I thought you guys were some sort of friends now," said Neville.

"I don't know if that's the word I'd use but I'm absolutely convinced he that would no longer target me out of spite."

"Maybe not," said Harry. "But we can't forget he has a weakness now." 

"And that is...?" asked Neville.

"Astoria and Scorpius."

"I hate to agree but you're right about that," said Hermione. "Draco's loyalty to them goes even deeper than it did with his parents and we all remember what he was willing to do for them. He wouldn't do this on his own but...if someone were threatening his wife and son, _forcing_ him to act against me? Then it's hard to say what he'd do."

Neville shook his head in confusion. "If that's the case then why do you have him helping you with this?"

"He's the best at what he does," admitted Harry. "But to your point, I'm not taking anything at face value. I'm having Professor Flitwick double check his reports when I get them and so far Filius agrees with everything he's said."  
  
Neville struggled against a sudden, overwhelming feeling of utter helplessness. One of the people on this board was quite possibly trying to kill the woman sitting next to him and for the moment there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 - Distractions**

After Harry left, Neville helped Hermione establish a workspace, even digging out some arcane books that held information he thought might be relevant to her werewolf project. As soon as he handed over the first volume she dived into it, only looking up a few minutes later when she heard him chuckle.

"What?" she asked.

"Nice to see another thing hasn't changed."

"What are you talking about?"

"That thing you do with your hair when you're concentrating really hard."

She realized that she'd been twirling her finger in hair and smiled sheepishly. "Oh. Right. I don't even notice I'm doing it most of the time."

"I know. Back at school I worried you were going to get so twisted up in there that we'd have to cut your finger loose."

"Funny you should say that. That actually happened when I was a little girl. Mum had to cut out a big chunk and it took forever to grow back. When I learned about magic that was one of the first spells I looked up - how to untangle my finger so it wouldn't happen again."

"Good to know. One less thing for me to fret about then." Neville laid a few more books next to her. "I'll leave you to your work. Let me know if you need anything."

When he checked back a few hours later she was still hunched over the desk, writing furiously. It was clear that she hadn't budged from that spot since he'd left. Worried at the pace at which she was pushing herself he approached carefully. "Hey. Ready to take a break?"

"Can't," she replied without looking up. "Still have almost twenty more letters to write."

"You can do that after you've eaten something."

"I'm fine. Just a little while longer..."

He reached over and plucked the quill from her hand. "Stop. Why are you doing this to yourself?"

She made a desperate grab for the quill but missed. "I started something. I need to finish it."

He summoned a chair and sat next to her. "I've seen you work on projects before. This is more than simply completing an assignment. There's something deeper going on here. Talk to me. Why does this mean so much to you?"

"I - I want to do something to honor Professor Lupin."

"Admirable but obviously not the whole story. Why else?"

She fidgeted in her seat. "I want to prove that my studies were accurate, my theories regarding the policies are valid and my conclusions are sound."

He scooted closer and took her hand. "And...?"

She stared at the desk but didn't pull away. "Because...even though I haven't personally suffered from lycanthropy I know what it's like to be tied to two worlds but never feel a real part of either for reasons that are mostly out of your control. " 

She nervously glanced at him. "Don't get me wrong. I love being magical and I wouldn't trade it for anything but I didn't _choose_ it and part of being a Muggle born witch means you never feel truly accepted in either place. You have to keep a huge part of your life hidden in one world and many people in the other will always see you as something 'less than'."

Neville gently rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. "I've never seen you as 'less than' anything. Quite the opposite, in fact."

"I know. That's always meant so much to me. You were one of the few pure bloods that didn't see me as an abomination or a curiosity. You saw me as a witch - plain and simple."

"Far be it from me to contradict someone of your intellect but I assure you that I've never once thought of you as plain _or_ simple, Hermione."

The clock chimed and he reluctantly withdrew his hand. "Come on. Let's get you fed then you can continue. I'll help if you like."

"Help what?"

"Write letters." He pointed at the directory of names in front of her. "I recognize some of the people on this list. A fair number benefited from either Gran's generosity or my parent's protection over the years. The Longbottom name may not be what it once was but it still carries some weight in certain quarters."

"You don't have to do that."

"I know. I'm doing it because I _want_ to. Because I truly believe in what you're doing, Hermione." He pushed his chair back and stood. "But first, let's see what we can rustle up for a meal. You won't accomplish anything if you're passed out from starvation."

xxx

True to his word, after making sure Hermione had eaten and rested, Neville helped finish her correspondence then gave her some time alone to further explore the library. When he checked in before bed he found her sitting cross legged on the floor, surrounded by piles of books and staring at the board filled with potential suspects. He lowered himself down next to her and scanned a few of the titles she had pulled.

" _Bestiarium Magicum, Goshawk's Guide to Herbology, An Anthology of 18th Century Charms, The Practical Potioner_? Settling in for a little light reading?"

"I was going to do some research on a side project I've been working on but I kept getting distracted looking at this lot." She nodded towards the display in front of them. "It's a little difficult to concentrate when you're facing a wall full of people that quite possibly want you dead."

Neville fished around in his pocket, produced a brightly wrapped candy bar and handed it to her. "Here. A very wise person once told me that chocolate helps in situations like this."

She gave him a bemused smile. "I believe that was Professor Lupin but I'm not fighting off dementors."

Neville glanced from the board back to her. "Aren't you though?"

She opened her mouth to argue the point then realized he was right. She sighed and accepted his offering. "Touché. Thank you."

She unwrapped the bar, broke off a small piece and popped it in her mouth. "Oh, my. This is excellent!"

"I know, right? It's Belgian. Picked some up when I was on the continent."

"What? No Chocolate Frogs?" Hermione teased.

"Nah. Had to stop buying them once my picture turned up on one of the cards. Too weird to see my own face staring back at me from the package."

"Agreed. Even Ron got tired of that pretty quickly."

"Funny the things you think will make you happy when you're a kid. At one point in my life that would have seemed like the greatest thing that could ever happen to a person."

"I fear there are a lot of things that aren't quite what we dreamed they'd be." She broke off another tiny sliver of chocolate then handed it back to him.

"You can have more than that," he insisted. "As a matter of fact, keep the whole bar. I've got plenty."

"Oh, I couldn't do that."

"Why not?"

"Being dentists and all, my parents were very strict about sweets when I was a child. Even as an adult I still find myself worrying that indulging in things like eating an entire chocolate bar comes across as a bit...decadent, I suppose."

"I think under these circumstances we can make an exception," said Neville.

She studied the candy wrapper then quietly asked, "Nev? Do you think what's happening to me is some sort of...divine retribution for what I did to my parents?"

"No. Absolutely not," he stated in a firm voice as he took her hand. "There's absolutely no connection between the two events. You didn't do anything wrong by using whatever means you had at your disposal to protect your parents. Nothing."

"Then why is this happening, Neville? Like you said earlier, none of these people really track given the information we have so far. I've gone over this a thousand times and I have to admit that I'm at a loss."

Neville gestured around the room. "Then you're in the right place, because you know what another very wise person once taught me? When in doubt, go to a library."

Hermione's shoulders slumped. "I'm afraid this is one of those rare instances where I'm not going to find the answer in a book."

Neville gasped as he clutched his chest and reeled back dramatically. "What?! Is this really Hermione Granger? Good thing I'm already on the floor. I'm in danger of fainting."

"Stop." Hermione gave him a playful shove as she chuckled softly. "But I have to say that one of the hardest things for me to learn has been that - as desperately as I wish otherwise - there are some things that just can't be learned from books."

"You're right," Neville nodded. "They taught us a lot of things at school but we never learned what really mattered - how to love, how to appreciate people while we have them, how to grieve them properly when they are gone. We have to figure all that out on our own. Sometimes we get it right. Sometimes we get it wrong. The important thing is to keep trying, I guess."

He rose to his feet and reached his hand towards her. "And you will keep trying. Tomorrow. After a good night's sleep and at least one more piece of that chocolate."

She took his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. "Not going to let go of this chocolate thing, are you?"

"Nope." He picked up the bar and gave it back to her. "You know, in some cultures it would be considered an tremendous breach of etiquette to refuse a gift from your host."

Hermione took the chocolate and dropped into an exaggerated curtsey. "Well then, far be it from me to insult the lord of the manor."

Neville clicked his heels and offered his arm. "Good. Now that we have that sorted, may I have the honor of escorting the lady to her chambers so she can retire for the evening?"

Hermione looped her arm through his and in her best upper crust voice replied, "You may, kind sir."

He walked her to her room and as he stepped away she called out, "You did it again, you know."

"Did what?"

"Managed to get my mind off what's happening."

Neville shook his head. "Wasn't me. It was the chocolate."

She smiled softly. "No. It wasn't. Thank you, Nev. Good night."

"Good night, Hermione."

She closed the door behind her leaving Neville staring at the place where she'd been standing far longer than he intended before heading off to bed.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11 - Weeds**

The following morning, after they'd dispatched the stack of letters via Harry, Hermione turned to Neville and asked, "Is that offer a full tour of the property still good? I need something else on which to focus my attention."

"You're in luck. We have another tour scheduled to leave..." He glanced at a nearby Grandfather clock. "Right now, actually."

He motioned for her to follow him then showed her around the parts of the house she hadn't already explored. She asked loads of questions and listened with interest as he shared stories from his family's past. In one of the rooms she spied a picture sitting on a table of a very young Neville in a garden with his Grandmother.

She grabbed the photo and grinned. "Look at you! How old are you here?"

Neville cringed at the image. "Three? Maybe four. Not sure."

"You are so cute in that little red cap! Already sporting your future house colors."

"Oh, yeah. Quite the Gryffindor in that one. Hiding behind Gran's skirts because I was afraid of the photographer." 

"That may have been the case back then but in the end, you were the truest Gryffindor of all," said Hermione decisively. "Like Dumbledore said, 'it takes a great deal of courage to stand up to your enemies but a great deal _more_ to stand up to one's friends.' You were always willing to stand up for what was right, Nev. No matter what it cost you."

"So did you."

Hermione shook her head. "I mainly just found myself in impossible situations and did what I had to do to get us out alive." 

Neville reached for another picture sitting nearby, this one of all the first year Gryffindors in his class, taken just after the sorting ceremony. He pointed to the two of them off to the side, looking equal parts excited and terrified.   
  
"Hatstalls, the pair of us, remember? You arguing to be placed in Ravenclaw and me for Hufflepuff."

"I don't say this often enough but I've never been more grateful to have been wrong," Hermione admitted. "If we'd had our way we'd have been in different houses and I don't want to imagine what Hogwarts would have been like without knowing you as I did."

"Same here."

They stood looking at each other until Neville said, "So...That's pretty much the house. Interested in seeing the gardens?"

"Love to."

He escorted her outside and as they passed one of the neatly tended beds Hermione stopped to admire a group of deep blue, bell-shaped flowers.

"These are lovely. They're the ones you've been leaving in the vase in my room, aren't they?"

"Yeah. They're called Fairy Bells. The magical variety actually sounds like tiny bells ringing. Thought those might keep you awake so I've been using the Muggle kind instead." He blushed slightly and added, "I haven't been invading your privacy, just so you know. The vase in your room has a match in the greenhouse. I put the flowers in that one and they appear at your bedside."

"That's sweet, but it's your house, Neville. You can go anywhere you like."

"It may be my house but while you're here that room is entirely your space. I remember what it felt like to stay somewhere you never felt totally at ease. I want you to have a spot where you can relax and feel some measure of control over your environment."

She took his arm as they started towards the largest of the greenhouses. "That is very thoughtful, Neville. Thank you."

He opened the door and watched as she began inspecting everything inside with her typical curiosity.

"I'm ashamed that I never asked this but what got you interested in plants to begin with?"

"Don't ever remember _not_ being interested. I suppose at first it was the colors and smells of the garden that drew me then I got fascinated by the whole process. Why some plants thrived in an environment while another didn't, the almost limitless number of uses for them, the life cycle in general. The idea that the soil I was digging around in had been here long before I arrived and would be here long after I was gone."

She raised an eyebrow. "Quite advanced concepts for a little boy."

He laughed and shook his head. "Can't say I was able to verbalize any of that when I was a kid. Back then it was just something I enjoyed doing that I wasn't rubbish at that also got me out of the house. It was a relief to be around something that never fussed at me or looked at me like I was a disappointment."

She smiled kindly at him. "You've never been a disappointment, Nev. Not to me."

"Thanks. Where were you when I was five?"

"Off somewhere feeling very much the same way, I suppose, only I found solace in books instead of gardens." She paused next to a tall plant with vivid pink flowers on the potting bench. "I like this one. What's it called?"

"Rosebay."

"Isn't that a weed?"

Neville shook his head. "Some call it 'Fireweed' but I don't like that term. What others call 'weeds' are just plants growing in a place that someone has arbitrarily decided they shouldn't be."

Hermione ran a finger lightly over one of its leaves and asked in a quiet voice, "Am I a weed?"

"I suppose but not in the way you're thinking."

“What do you mean?”

He picked up the plant and held it towards the light. "You know why some people dislike weeds? Because they don't fit in with that particular person's rigid idea of what's acceptable. But here's the thing - when a 'weed' wants to grow somewhere, almost nothing can stop it. 'Weeds' are tough, adaptable and damn near impossible to get rid of once they've taken root. They have a special kind of wild beauty all their own. They grow and flourish where others can't and they'll be the ones left standing when everything else around them has withered away. They're survivors and any herbologist worth his salt not only respects but cherishes them for that."

She stared at him for a long moment then threw her arms around his waist and hugged him. "Thank you, Neville."

He chuckled as he set the plant aside to return the embrace. "You're welcome. Never been thanked for comparing someone to a weed before."

She peered up at him. "Have you ever compared someone to a weed before now?"

"No. Can't say that I have."

She nodded firmly. "That's why then."

Neville smiled and made a mental note to change the flowers in the vase to Rosebay the first opportunity he had.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: This chapter contains brief descriptions of past torture.

**Chapter 12 - Questions and Answers**

That evening, after Hermione went to bed, Neville did his customary rounds to check the wards around the house. As he passed through the sitting room he spotted the copy of _Herbologist's Helper_ magazine Pomona Sprout had forwarded to him, asking for his opinion on one of the articles. He decided there was no time like the present to tackle the request and made himself comfortable on the divan. 

Soon the stress of recent days combined with the warmth of the fire and the dry, technical nature of the reading took its toll. He was on the verge of dozing off when he heard a soft voice call his name. 

"Nev?"

He jerked awake, almost knocking over the tea on the table next to him. "What?! Who?!" He exhaled in relief when he saw Hermione standing in the doorway, half covered in darkness. "Oh. It's you. You startled me."

"Sorry." She sounded hoarse and Neville wondered if she'd come downstairs for a drink.

"No worries. I know you'll find this shocking but the article on ten new uses for gillyweed that Professor Sprout sent me wasn't nearly as scintillating as I'd hoped it would be." He gave an awkward smile when there was no sign of amusement from her. "Are you okay? Do you need some...."

He stopped short when she moved into the light. Her eyes were red and puffy, her face blotchy and her hair tousled even more than usual. She stood with her arms wrapped tight around herself, fingers twitching nervously.

Neville was immediately on his feet. "Hermione? What's wrong? What happened?"

"I - I had a dream."

"A nightmare?"

"Y-yes."

"I'm sorry. Can I get you something? Would you like some tea? Hot chocolate? A draught of...."

"What did it feel like?" She asked suddenly, taking a step forwards.

"What did what feel like?"

"When - when you were hit with the cruciatus." She shifted uncomfortably and kept her eyes fixed on the floor between them.

Neville lowered himself back onto the divan and took a moment to organize his thoughts before answering her. 

"It was different depending on who was casting the spell, I suppose. In general I'd describe it as the most intense, all-encompassing pain imaginable. Like thousands of..."

"White hot knives repeatedly piercing every inch of you," Hermione finished.

"Pretty much."

"Were Bellatrix's...different from the others?"

"They were all bad but - yeah. Hers were particularly nasty. Left this..." He gestured towards his throat.

Hermione took another hesitant step towards him. "Foul aftertaste in your mouth. Like you'd been forced to drink sick."

He nodded as she began wringing her hands.

"How - how many times were you hit?" she asked.

"You mean, altogether in my life? Couldn't tell you. Lost count once I hit double digits. That last year at school was...bad."

She took another step closer. "What was the worst time?"

"I suppose that was when I got hit with three at once."

Hermione gasped as her hand flew to her mouth. She barely managed to get out the word, "When?"

Neville stared into the fire. "One day the Carrows decided to demonstrate the Imperius in class. Drug in a bunch of first and second years and started forcing them to do vile things to each other. When they wouldn't stop I fired off a curse at Amycus as a distraction so the little ones could escape. As punishment for ruining their 'fun' they imperiused a Hufflepuff and all three crucio'd me simultaneously." He dropped his head. "I almost didn't make it back from that one."

Hermione sat next to him. "How _did_ you come back from it?"

Neville ran his hand through his hair. "Don't really know. I woke up later in the Room of Requirement. Apparently one of the first years ran into Seamus as they were trying to get away and he managed round up enough DA members to cause a distraction so they could get me out. They got word to Professor Sprout and she brewed up some sort of tonic that they forced down me while I was unconscious. When I woke up I didn't know where or even who I was for a little while."

"Neither did I," whispered Hermione. "Fleur and Luna brewed something similar for me at Shell Cottage. A powerful combination pain and sleeping draught." She scooted closer. "Did you have trouble afterwards with muscle spasms?"

"Yeah. They were pretty bad at first. Got better after a while although I've been informed I still thrash about in my sleep from time to time."

Hermione burst into a flustered combination of laughter and tears. It took a moment before she was able to speak. "I'm so sorry, Nev. I don't mean to...But it feels... I'm just..."

"Just relieved to find someone who knows what you're talking about?"

She wiped the back of her hand across her face and nodded. "Yes."

He opened his arms and she threw herself into them, tears flowing freely. "It's okay, Hermione," he assured her. "I understand. Really."

He held her and let her cry for as long as she wanted, shedding a few tears of his own on the way. From time to time she'd stop and share something from her experience at the Manor then she'd cry a bit more. Eventually she sat back and stared at him. He waited patiently as it was evident she was working up the nerve to ask another question. She finally pulled up her sleeve to reveal the scar Bellatrix had carved into her.

He reached out but before actually touching her he looked her in the eye. 

"May I?"

She took a deep breath and gave a cautious nod. He gently took her wrist in one hand while running his fingers tenderly over the word carved into her skin. "Those cursed blades really hurt, don't they?"

"Almost worse than the crucios," she agreed. "And the bleeding..."

"Seems like it will never stop," he finished.

He watched as she struggled to put another thought into words and finally said, "It's okay, Hermione. Ask whatever you want. If I can answer it, I will."

She averted her eyes and asked, "The - the cuts on your torso. Did they all happen at once?"

"No, thankfully. I'd have bled out for certain, I think. No, I got those a little at a time. Sometimes as punishment for standing up to them. Sometimes they'd recover a new dark object during a raid and want to try it out. Sometimes they'd need blood for a ritual. Sometimes just out of pure spite."

"Why did they always choose you?"

"They didn't. Not once they figured out how to get us to volunteer."

"What do you mean?"

"Another one of the Carrows twisted games. They'd line up a bunch of us they suspected of being in the DA then they'd drag in the smallest, most frightened first years they could find and give us two options. Volunteer for the knife willingly or watch as they cut up the little ones. Not much of a choice really."

Hermione looked as if she were going to be ill. "Sweet Circe...So you..."

"In fairness, it wasn't just me. Seamus, Terry, Ernie - quite a few of us have souvenirs from that time. It was just their perverse interest in what happened to my parents that got me to the front of the line a little more often."

"I wish I would've been there to help you."

He took her hands in his and squeezed. "I'm glad you weren't. As much as I missed you I thanked Merlin every day that those bastards never got a hold of you."

She dropped her gaze. "I suppose I just had to content myself with Bellatrix and Greyback."

Neville felt his jaw clench as he prepared to ask a question he was afraid to hear the answer to. "Did he..."

Hermione spared him the rest. "No. Although if Dobby hadn't shown up when he did that was to have been my fate. If I survived Bellatrix I'd been promised to Greyback to use...however he wanted."

Neville wished the little elf were still alive, if for no other reason than to thank him for sparing her that. He gathered her back into his arms. "Is that another reason you're so passionate about the werewolf act?"

He felt her nod against his chest. "I suppose. If things had gone differently and Fenrir hadn't killed me outright then it's quite possible I would be exactly the sort of person who needed this kind of help."

He adjusted their position so she was beside him yet still in his arms. He ran one hand down her arm and rested it on her scar again. "May I ask you something else?"

"Yes. Of course."

"If you could get rid of this - would you?"

She considered the question carefully before answering. "No."

"Why?"

"Because it should serve as a reminder. A reminder of our history and a warning to not let it repeat itself. A reminder of what happens if good people don't stand up for what's right. A reminder that they may have hurt me but they didn't break me. A reminder to never give up." She laid a hand on his chest, feeling the largest of his scars through his shirt. "What about you?"

"Same I guess. Although I confess I dread people seeing them for the first time. I hate the look in their eyes. That combination of disgust and pity always makes me cringe."

"Sorry. I suppose I did that too, didn't I?"

"No. Your's was more a look of..."

"Sadness and understanding?"

He nodded as she snuggled closer to him. She rested her head in the crook of his neck and whispered, "Neville...Do you think any of this will ever get easier?"

He sighed and ran his fingers through her hair.

"I don't know. I hope so but...I honestly don't know, Hermione. I wish I did."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13 - Defense**

The following morning Neville completed his workout and was on his way back upstairs to shower when he passed the sitting room and heard Hermione speaking with Harry and Ron via floo. Not wanting to invade her privacy he hurried past the door but paused when he heard his name.

"So," Ron laughed, "Has Nev bored you senseless with his plant stuff yet?"

"Merlin!" chimed in Harry. "Please tell me he's spared you that! You've got enough problems with someone trying to kill you. Last thing you need is him talking you to death about his hobby."

Neville hung his head and was about to move on when Hermione snapped back, "I'm sure I don't have the faintest idea of what the two of you are talking about. Neville's work is fascinating and if either of you took half a moment to actually listen to him you'd be aware of that fact."

"Oh, come on, Hermione. It's _plants_ ," said Ron.

"Exactly. Plants. The very things that clean our air and provide a good portion of our foodstuffs as well as giving us tea and medicine and countless other products that make daily life possible."

"Sweet Circe!" exclaimed Harry. "She's been there too long. She's starting to sound like him."

"I know that you _think_ you're insulting me, Harry, but I'd be proud to be compared to Neville. He's brave, clever, kind, hardworking, loyal..."

"Yeah, yeah. He's a regular bloody Hufflepuff," joked Ron.

"I don't care for the tone you use when you say that, Ronald Weasley," sniped Hermione. "Perhaps we should bring your wife into this conversation? I'm sure Susan would be most interested in your opinions regarding her House."

The ensuing silence told Neville all he needed to know about Ron's view on that idea.

"I thought so," said Hermione. "Now I want both of you to listen up. I'm tired of you treating Neville the way you did in school. That may have been considered acceptable behavior when you were fourteen but I won't stand for it now. You will treat him with the respect due a man of his status and accomplishments or you will answer to me, understood?"

"Take it easy, Hermione. You know we love the guy. He's one of our best mates. This is just how we always talk about him," said Harry.

"Well not anymore. Not around me. He deserves better. Got it?"

There was a chorus of chastened "Yes, ma'am's" before the trio said their goodbyes with Harry promising to stop by after checking in with his office to see if there were any new updates on her case. As she ended the call, Neville hurried to his room with a spring in his step which hadn't been there previously.

xxx

"I didn't realize we were having a formal breakfast." Hermione looked up from her coffee in surprise as Neville entered the kitchen a wearing dress robes. "I suddenly feel rather out of place. What's the occasion?"

"Today is Gran's birthday. Out of respect I try to spruce up whenever I visit her grave. She liked it when I 'made an effort'. Her words," he added with a shrug.

"You look very smart. I'm sure she appreciates the gesture. Would it be okay if I came along or is this a private ritual?"

"No. I'd love the company. If you don't mind, that is."

"I don't mind at all. Give me a moment to change into something a bit more respectable. Don't want to make a bad impression."

Neville smiled when he realized she wasn't joking - she actually wanted to show respect to his Grandmother by dressing up.

"I don't think you could ever make a bad impression, Miss Granger, but if it will make you feel better then take all the time you need. Nice thing about visiting the dearly departed. They're always waiting for you when you get there."

Hermione hurried to her room and selected one of her better work ensembles and soon they were making their way across the property to the family cemetery. Neville opened the heavy wrought iron gate before heading towards the most recent headstone erected near the stacked stone wall.

Hermione stood at a polite distance as he laid a bouquet of delphiniums next to a plaque reading _Augusta Fawley Longbottom, 1900 to 1999_.

"You cared for her during her illness, didn’t you?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah. She lasted longer than the healers thought she would. Said she wasn't going anywhere until she was damn good and ready."

"I can almost hear her saying that. She was quite a strong willed woman."

"That she was. She came to the school and fought in the final battle, you know. Took out a couple death eaters all on her own. Not too shabby for a woman of her age," Neville said with more than a touch of pride.

"I know. I read the article Luna's father wrote after her passing. She was a remarkable witch by anyone's standards."  
  
After respectful pause Hermione stepped forward and asked, "What was her favorite color?"

Neville thought for a moment. "Blue, I suppose."

She produced her wand and conjured a small wreath of forget-me-nots. "There. Not as posh an offering as she might like but..."

"They're lovely. Thank you," said Neville, admiring her handiwork. "She thought a lot of you."

Hermione looked up in confusion. "What do you mean? I only met Augusta a handful of times and those were brief at best."

"She knew enough. Professor McGonagall often mentioned how much you helped me with my studies and she saw for herself the impact you had on me - academically and socially. Said any girl that could bring that out of me _must_ be the brightest witch of her age."

Hermione pursed her lips and considered her next words with care. "Neville, while I respect your Grandmother a great deal I must confess that I still take a tremendous exception with how your family treated you after your parents were no longer able to care for you."

"I know. Near the end Gran admitted that she'd made mistakes. Been too harsh. I think she was afraid I’d end up like my parents. She did her best under the circumstances."

"I suppose. But it wasn't just her." Hermione indicated a headstone two places over. "Is _he_ the one?"

"The one what?"

"You know. The one you told me about that night in the clock tower. The one that keep trying to force magic out of you when you were a little boy. The one that pushed you off Blackpool pier and almost allowed you to drown. The one that hung you out of an upstairs window by your ankles then 'accidentally' let go when offered a meringue."

"Uncle Algie? Yeah. That's him. In his defense I _did_ bounce when he dropped me. Everyone was elated to have confirmation I wasn't a squib. Gran was so happy that she cried." 

Hermione scowled at the grave as Neville added, "He wasn't _all_ bad. He sent me rare plants when I got older and he's the one who gave me Trevor."

"I don't care if he gave you a whole bloody swamp containing all Trevor's friends and relations, it doesn't excuse what he did to you," she replied tersely. "Is there a portrait of him in the house?"

"No. Got rid of them all. Why?"

She drew herself up to her full height. "Because I would very much like to have a word with him."

"You know what? I'd like to have seen that myself. Poor bastard wouldn't have stood a chance." 

She dipped her head in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Nev. This was neither the time nor the place for that sort of outburst. Please forgive me." 

"Nothing to forgive. Thank you for always believing in me," Neville said, draping his arm around her shoulders.

She leaned her face against his chest. "No thanks necessary. There was always a lot to believe in."

Neville shifted his feet. "Hermione? I – I need to confess something. This morning I was walking past the sitting room and I overheard part of your conversation with Ron and Harry."

"Did you?"

He nodded but before he could launch into his carefully planned apology over invading her privacy he was taken aback when she took his hand and intertwined their fingers.

"Good," she said. "Saves me repeating it to you myself."

Not sure of how to respond to that, Neville simply squeezed her fingers and smiled.

They finished paying their respects and headed back to the house but stopped short when they heard a heated argument nearby. Their unease quickly turned to apprehension when sounds of a fierce scuffle reached them. Without hesitation Neville grabbed Hermione and apparated her inside. The pair drew their wands and ran to the entrance just in time to see Harry dragging a bound and gagged Draco Malfoy towards the front door.

Neville lifted the wards to allow them to enter the house where Harry threw his captive to the floor.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "What _are_ you doing?"

"Came by to give you an update and found him outside the fence. Had a map of the area and one of your hairbrushes. Must've broken into your flat to get it. Bastard was using your hair to determine your whereabouts by scrying."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous. Draco didn't steal anything. I gave him that brush and I know why he was trying to find me."

"What?! Why?" shouted Harry.

"I-I can't tell you that. However, I _can_ tell you that there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for his presence here."

"Sorry, Hermione. Going to need more than that to convince me," Harry countered.

"Very well. If you insist." With a flick of her wand she removed the gag from Draco's mouth. "Will you release me from the vow so I can tell him?" 

Draco's eyes flicked between his captors but he remained silent.

"Oh, come on, Draco! I swear you can trust them and Neville's incredibly clever when it comes to herbology. I really think he can help. _Please_."

Draco clambered to his feet, hands still bound behind his back. "I can't. Not trussed up like a Christmas turkey. Besides, Potter has my wand."

"Release him and give him his wand," Hermione demanded.

Harry made the mistake of hesitating.

"Harry James Potter, I mean this _instant_!" She stamped her foot for emphasis.

Draco smirked at the speed Potter undid the binding spell and handed over his wand. Hermione moved towards him but Harry and Neville blocked her way. 

As she spluttered in protest in protest Draco snapped at her. "For Merlin's sake, Granger! Don't be stupid. They're trying to protect you from a perceived threat and rightfully so under the current circumstances. Give them a little credit, why don't you."

He extended his arm between the two men standing guard over her. They grasped each other's wrists as he recited the incantation, freeing her from the oath they had made.

She exhaled a sigh of relief. "Thank you. Do you want to tell them or shall I?"

He gave a dismissive wave. "You'll just keep jumping in to correct me so you may as well tell it."

"Then let's move into the sitting room, shall we? This might take a while. May as well be comfortable." Hermione motioned for them to follow after her. Harry and Neville took seats by the fire while Draco leaned against the wall and stared out a window.

"Right," started Hermione. "As the two of you may already know, Astoria hasn't been well the last couple of years. What you don't know is that she's suffering from a blood malediction." 

"Blood mal-a-what?" asked Harry.

"A blood curse," answered Neville. "Used to happen a lot in the old days. Someone would get angry at a family and place a 'time bomb' of sorts in their family tree. Nasty bit of dark magic. Sometimes you wouldn't even know the curse had been cast until several generations later when some random set of conditions had been fulfilled."

"What kind of conditions?"

Neville shrugged. "Balmy stuff. First daughter born to a fifth son. A child born under a blood moon. A fair haired boy born to dark haired parents. The usual arbitrary rubbish cooked up by overly dramatic psychopaths."

Harry nodded in understanding. "We've certainly seen our fair share of those. So what does a blood curse do?"

"That's what makes them so damned awful," said Neville. "You don't know when, where or _how_ the curse will manifest itself but the end result is always the same - death. Sadly, more often than not the process is slow and painful and the person that ends up bearing the burden never learns _why_ the curse was inflicted in the first place."

Hermione sighed in agreement. "Nev's right. It's the 'sins of the fathers' carried out to ridiculous extremes. The worst part is that so far no one's ever come up with an effective treatment, much less a cure, for a blood curse." 

"So that's the side project you've been working on?" asked Neville.  
  
"Yes." She gave Draco a pitying look. "Astoria's didn't manifest until Scorpius was born then it began slowly draining her life force. Draco spent months digging through every scrap of information he could find on the subject. When he was unable to locate a solution he sought me out, wondering if I'd come across anything even remotely related in my research on lycanthropy. I pulled together everything I could find, including information on Muggle blood cancer treatments. That's when I came up with the idea." 

"What idea?" asked Harry.

"A variation on the concept of Muggle blood transfusions. Since Astoria's illness was both magical and blood-born it occurred to me that polyjuice might be a potential treatment. Something to possibly weaken the curse. Slow it down until we can find a more permanent solution."

Harry and Neville sat dumbfounded as the full implications of Hermione's words began to sink in.

"Wait...so you're telling me..." started Neville.

Hermione nodded. "I thought by allowing Astoria to change herself into someone _without_ a malediction on a regular basis, it might hinder the progression of the curse long enough to buy us the time we needed. In order to make the treatments easier for her to tolerate we decided to use witches that had also been marked by dark magic."

She summoned the hairbrush which had been dropped in the entrance hall. "Of course, I insisted on voluntary donations. Transformation by polyjuice is a very personal thing. That meant, however, a very limited pool of donors so I started giving them some of my hair and Luna, bless her, donated two brushes before leaving with Rolf without even asking who needed it or why. According to Draco both potions seem to help but..."

At this point Draco finally spoke. "But the positive effects on Tori are much stronger and last significantly longer after she's taken Granger's."  
  
Hermione held up the brush, which the men noticed for the first time was almost picked clean. "So that's why he was trying to find me. He was running out of hair and Astoria's due for another treatment soon. I wanted to send another brush to him but since I can't use an owl from here without fear of it being tracked that meant I didn't have a safe way to do so while still maintaining my vow of secrecy. Sorry."

Harry gave Draco a skeptical look. "Hold on. Wouldn't it be weird for you or Scorpius to see Astoria as Luna or Hermione?"

"Of course it would," Draco snapped. "That's why we don't do it. To avoid any confusion, I take Scorp outside to play while Tori takes the treatments. It's a relatively short period of time and I'm close by in case there's a problem. She sends word when she's…herself again."

Neville leaned forward. "You actually expect me to believe that _you_ allow _your_ wife to transfigure into a Muggle born?"

"Of course," Draco said sharply. "I'd do anything to save the woman I love. Wouldn't you?"

He looked Neville in the eye and something resembling an understanding passed between them. 

Neville considered him carefully before standing and summoning an antique silver hairbrush from another room. He turned it over in his hands a couple of times before offering it to Draco. 

"Here."

Draco regarded the object as if it were an explosive whose fuse was about to ignite. "What's that?"

"Before Gran got sick she used to visit my parents regularly in hospital. Sometimes she'd brush Mum's hair. Pure blood. Female. Touched by dark magic. Maybe it will help."

Draco hesitated. "Are - Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Take it."

Draco reached for the brush and swallowed hard. "Thank you...Neville."

"You're welcome...Draco."

There was an awkward silence before Draco shuddered. "Okay. That was uncomfortable. Let's never do that again."

Neville grimaced and nodded. "Agreed."

"I'll vote for that," chimed Harry.

Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered, "Boys..."

"Right," said Draco, carefully placing the brush in his pocket. "Now that I'm no longer Undesirable Number One, I do have some news. I figured out how to break the last of the enchantments on the parchment you received. It's steeping in a modified revelare potion and by late tomorrow I should have the final chemical breakdown. As soon as that happens I'll give it to Potter to compare against the samples he's taken from your main suspects. That should at least narrow down your inquiry. Give you a better idea of who you're dealing with."

"Which actually leads into why I was coming by in the first place," said Harry. "We can cross two names off our list. We found pensieve testimony from some of the centaurs in the post war archives that proves definitively that Umbridge died in the forest. We've also tracked down Milicent Bulstrode. She now lives with an aunt near Durmstrang. Breeds high end, pure blood kneazles for the Eastern European wizarding elite. Doesn't have any real ties to Britain anymore. Voluntarily submitted to questioning by local authorities under veritaserum and passed with flying colors."

"Does that mean anything?" asked Neville. “Some people can fake answers under the serum, can’t they?”

"Milicent was a lot of things but proficient in occlumency was never one of them," said Draco. "Couldn't control her temper. Irritated Snape to no end. If she passed under veritaserum then it was legit."

"Great," sighed Hermione. "That means we've removed two seats from the quidditch stadium. Still leaves a pretty broad field of people that won't cry at my funeral."

Neville laid a hand on her shoulder. "It's something, at least. Let's wait and see what Malfoy finds out. That'll give us more to work with."

The group talked a while longer but made no more significant headway in eliminating suspects. Hermione provided Draco with another hair brush and they swore him to secrecy as to Hermione's whereabouts before he and Harry left with promises to return once they had results of the testing.

Later Hermione and Neville enjoyed a quiet meal then took up their now familiar spots in front of the fire.

"It was good of you to give that brush to Draco," she said. "I know that couldn't have been an easy thing given your past history with him."

"Yeah, well...I'm still not sure about the guy but I trust your judgment. I figured I shouldn't hold Astoria's taste in men against her and Scorpius didn't get to choose his Dad." 

His eyes went to the photo of his parents on the mantle. "Besides, Mum would give up almost anything so another woman could have a chance for more time with her son."

Hermione laid her head on his shoulder. "You are an amazing man, Neville Longbottom."

He rested his chin on her head. "All I did was give away a used hairbrush, Hermione."

She snuggled against him, pulling her knees up so they were almost in his lap. "Exactly."

Neville slipped his arm around her, enjoying the closeness. He wasn't sure why this particular action deserved so much praise but he wasn't about to argue with the results.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14 - Escape**

"Hermione - it's only seven o'clock in the morning and if you trod that same bit of flooring one more time I'll have to replace the carpet."

"Sorry. I've got too much nervous energy to burn off and I fear I may have destroyed your punching bag with a bit of accidental magic after breakfast." She paused, shuffled a few feet to her right then resumed pacing. "The legislation is coming up for a vote soon and I want to know what Draco's tests are going to show and I'm used to having a schedule and I'm starting to go a little stir crazy and..."

"And you need to stop and breathe, okay?" Neville blocked her path and lightly gripped her shoulders. "All this is doing is getting you more wound up. At this rate you'll collapse before noon and then I'll have to take over the pacing and I'm pretty I won't get the sequence correct."

"I don't have a sequ..." Hermione glanced down and let out an involuntary chuckle. "Oh, Merlin. I've been following the same pattern that's on the rug, haven't I?"

"Now that you mention it..."

"I apologize, Neville. I think I just need to get out for a little while."

"Great idea. Let's walk around the grounds for a bit."

"No. I mean 'out'. As in - somewhere different."

"Hermione, you know we can't do that. We still don't know who's trying to hurt you. It's not safe."

Neville could almost hear the gears grinding furiously in her mind until her eyes lit up. "We do know one thing."

"What?"

"What is the one common factor amongst everyone on the board?"

"They don't like you?"

"Besides that."

"Hate to sound like we're back at school but I'm gonna need a little help here."

"None of them are Muggle born."

"Yeah. So?"

"So, let's you and I escape to Muggle London for a few hours. It feels like ages since I've been in my favorite book stores."

"No. Sorry. Too dangerous."

" _Please_? Just for a little while. I have plenty of Muggle money on me and the clothes you've got on won't raise any suspicions. I know all kinds of safe apparation points in the city. I'll even make it worth your while. I'll take you to Kew Gardens."

He tried to hide his interest at the mention of a garden but must have failed because she rushed to expound on that point. "It's the one of the largest and most diverse collections on the planet. Hundreds of acres and tens of thousands of plants from all over the Muggle world. Their rose garden alone has over a hundred different species. Not to mention the herbarium which contains _millions_ of specimens."

"Hermione..."

"Come on, Neville. A few minutes in the bookshops..."

His eyebrows lifted and she backtracked slightly. "Okay. Perhaps a _bit_ more time than that. Then a quick trip so you can see the highlights of Kew and we're back before anyone even knows we were gone."

"It sounds tempting, Hermione. Honestly. Maybe someday. But right now it's too risky. I can't control any of the necessary variables in a city the size of London."

"But the city's size is what makes this work! Don't you see? It's one thing to track me down someplace like Diagon Alley or the Ministry where there's a couple of hundred people at most but in Muggle London we're just two people mixed in amongst millions. Much better place to stay hidden, wouldn't you agree?"

"I see what you're saying but I still think this is a bad idea."

She crossed her arms and gave him a hard stare and in that moment he knew he was done for. 

"Fine. It's seems you leave me no choice." She summoned her wand, her jacket and her bag. "I'm going, with or without you. You either grab hold of me in the next thirty seconds or you can jolly well wait here until I get back."

She raised her wand and he swore furiously under his breath as he summoned his own jacket and slipped his wand into an inside pocket. He wrapped his arm around her waist and muttered, "Damn it, woman. If something goes wrong you're going to hear one hell of an 'I told you so.' "

"Noted," she said with a self-satisfied smile before whisking them off.

A few seconds later they appeared in the back alley of Muggle London behind a row of shops which included a variety of both new and used book stores. At first Neville was on high alert but before long he got swept up in Hermione's enthusiasm as she pointed out the many authors and titles which had inspired her over the years. 

After a while he even allowed himself the luxury of imagining that this was almost a date of sorts, relishing the times she took his hand to pull him into a succession of shops then onto one of the double-decker busses for the trip to Kew. She led him to the upper deck and found seats away from everyone else, giving her the opportunity to provide a running commentary of the many sites they passed along the way.

Once they arrived at Kew, Hermione purchased their tickets and was leading Neville down a path towards the Rose Garden when they passed a grounds crew cutting the formal lawns. Hermione inhaled deeply, enjoying one of her favorite scents when she came to an abrupt stop, her gaze shifting between the workers and Neville. He spotted the all too familiar look that occurred when thoughts where coming at her so fast that she was having trouble processing them.

He gave her a moment then asked, "Hermione? You okay?"

His confusion deepened when she grabbed his shirt, pressed her nose against his chest and took a big sniff. She then backed up, turned and tested the air in the other direction. She paused then repeated the exercise twice more.

He was now seriously alarmed. He waved a hand in front of her face while scanning the surrounding area for threats. "Hermione? Can you hear me? If you've been hit by a confundus, find a way to let me know, okay?"

She shook her head and blinked. "What? No. Sorry. It's...I just realized. You - you smell like freshly mown grass."

"Do I?" Neville blushed and rubbed his neck. "Is - is that a problem? I mean, I hope I haven't been offending you with...I mean - should I be using a different soap or..."

"No! It's not a problem at all. I think it - you - smell nice. I just never...put the pieces together until now."

"Oh. Okay. Thank you. I think."

Hermione studied him briefly then took his arm. "Come on. I need to show you something."

She pulled him along the path until she arrived at a particular grouping of shrub roses. "My Mum loved the smell of these. She said the aroma made her think of the future - sweet and full of promise."

Neville made a mental note of the name of that particular variety and silently vowed to have some planted for her as soon as possible before asking, "What do _you_ see in the future, Hermione?"

"You're not asking me to channel my inner Trelawney, are you Nev? I'm sure you remember how I feel about that particular branch of magic."

"I'm serious. Have you given any thought about what you'd like to do once the vote passes?"

Hermione sighed. "You seem awfully sure it will pass."

"Of course I am. You've set your mind to it. I'd never bet against anything you've put your heart into."

"Thank you. That means a lot coming from you." She gazed at one of the flowers then said, "I'm not sure what comes after that. I want to do something that matters but maybe not so much in the public eye."

"Like what?"

"I was considering teaching. What do you think?"

"I think you'd be fantastic! I know I wouldn't have made it through school without you."

"Yes, you would. You're a brilliant wizard and always have been. You just lacked confidence and a proper wand in the early days."

"See?" He tapped her lightly on the nose. "You always know the right things to say. We need more teachers like you."

"You mean Muggle born?"

"I meant tough yet encouraging but...yeah. Now that you mention it, we certainly need more Muggle born instructors as well and not just teaching Muggle Studies. You could provide fresh perspectives in all the disciplines. Keep people from getting stuck in ruts and accepting things just because that's how they've always been. Show all the students, not just the Muggle borns, that skill definitely isn't tied to blood lines."

"Now look who knows all the right things to say. Flatterer."

"Not flattery," he said. "Truth. There's a difference. Look it up. I'm pretty sure it's in a book somewhere."

Her eyes twinkled as she took his hand and began pulling him towards the large glass structure behind them. "Come on. I can't wait for you to see inside the Palm House. It was built specifically to house a wide variety of rainforest plants. The kind of things you wouldn't normally see in Britain."

Once they entered Neville was hard pressed to determine if the flush on his cheeks came from the warm, humid air of the tropical greenhouse or from the fact that Hermione remained by his side and continued to hold his hand while she rattled off a constant litany of facts from the official brochure.

As she rhapsodized about a plant which was almost two hundred years old, he had to fight a sudden urge to gather her in his arms and kiss her. He was on the verge of giving in to the temptation when a little boy, no more than seven or eight years old, ran up and tugged insistently on Hermione's sleeve.

"Lady? Lady? I'm supposed to give this to you."

They looked down and despite the temperature in the room Neville’s blood turned ice cold. The child was holding an envelope made of a familiar parchment with Hermione's name scrawled on the front in what Neville prayed was red ink.

He pulled Hermione away from the boy and placed himself between them. "Who gave that to you?" he asked, trying to keep the growing panic from creeping into his voice.

"I - I can't remember," the boy said, suddenly looking confused and agitated. "I think they were wearing a hoodie but...it's all a bit fuzzy now."

"It's okay. Don't worry about it," reassured Neville. "If you don't mind, would you please place it on there?" He gestured towards the waist high railing which separated the walkway from the plants.

The boy did as he was asked. "Thank you," said Neville. "Now, be a good lad and run back to find your parents, okay?"

The boy complied and as he disappeared around the corner Hermione gripped Neville's arm and spoke with a barely contained rage, "They used a _child_ , Nev. A _Muggle_ child."

"I know. And we'll deal with that later, I promise. However, we've got bigger problems at the moment. Mainly, how did they find us and where are they right now?"

"There's one way to find out."

"How?"

"See what's inside the envelope," she said.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Neville asked.

"Better than waiting to see if it explodes like an unopened howler in the middle of one of London's largest tourist attractions."

Neville scanned the area around them, suddenly wishing that they weren't surrounded by such dense plant growth. Too many hiding places for his liking but they didn't have any other solid options at this point.

"Stand back," he said. She hesitated then did as he asked. "Cast a concealment charm and keep an eye out for Muggles while I do this, okay?"

While she secured the area, he tapped the envelope lightly with his wand. It sprung to life and began unfolding itself like a coiled serpent until it resembled a dark, malevolent version of a howler. It undulated ominously in the air before a sinister voice hissed at them and the sound made the hairs on the back of Neville's neck stand on end. It had been altered to the point where it sounded neither male nor female but instead simply dripped with a tone that he could only describe as pure evil.

"Hello, Hermione. I just wanted to let you know that I could have killed you and your boyfriend at any point today but I've decided keeping you in suspense is far more entertaining. I like the thought of you holed up somewhere, cowering in fear, waiting for me to strike." At this the envelope darted forward a couple of inches, causing both Neville and Hermione to jump. "So, keep looking over your shoulder. Next time I may decide I've had my fun and put an end to you."

A small spark unexpectedly ignited on the top corner of the note. "And there won't be anything left of this for your little friends to analyze, so don't even bother...."

With that the entire thing burst into ball of electric blue flames before vanishing without a trace.

Neville struggled to regain control of his heart rate. "You okay?"

"I'm not physically hurt, if that's what you're asking," Hermione replied in a shaky voice. "What do we do now?"

"Are there any Muggles that can see us?"

She took a quick glimpse around. "No."

"Then you hold tight and we get the hell out of here."

Hermione wrapped her arms securely around his waist. "What? No 'I told you so's'?"

"No, because now we've got to tell Harry what's happened and I reckon we’re both going to get enough of that from him, don't you think?"

“I _think_ I’d rather face the person trying to kill me instead of having that conversation.”

“Yeah. You and me both.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15 - Confession**

"Damn it, Nev! You _idiot_! I thought you had more sense that that! What the hell were you thinking, taking her out in public?! You could've gotten her killed!"

Before Harry could say anything else, Hermione stepped forward to rage at the face scowling through the emerald green flames of the floo.

"Harry Potter how DARE you speak to him like that! It was my decision to go out after Neville insisted it wasn't safe! _I_ was the one who didn't listen! Neville has continually put his life on the line for me and I will NOT have you disrespecting him in this fashion!" 

She swung her wand arm towards the fireplace. "Now get out and STAY out until you can keep a civil tongue and apologize!"

With a violent flick of her wrist she not only extinguished the flames to end the conversation but also sealed the floo shut entirely with a solid layer of bricks. She then proceeded to storm about the room casting a whole slew of additional protective wards around the house in general and the sitting room in particular.

Once finished she dropped down into one of the large chairs. "There. He can bloody well cool his heels outside until he comes to his senses and learns some manners."

"He's right," Neville said quietly.

She gave him a sharp look. "No, he's NOT."

"Yes. He _is_. And knowing him, he'll be here soon."

"No, he won't. You've known him as long as I have. He'll throw things around his office and sulk for at least half an hour before turning up here asking for forgiveness."

"Good. That will give you plenty of time to get packed and be ready to leave when he arrives."

Hermione leapt to her feet. "What? No!"

"Yes. You're going to a safe house with someone who is better equipped to protect you."

"Don't be ridiculous, Neville! This could've happened just as easily if Harry had been with me."

Neville turned to face the wall. "No. It wouldn't."

"Why ever not?"

His shoulders tensed but he remained silent and unmoving.

"Come on. Answer me," she said.

Neville stared at the wall with such intensity that for a brief second Hermione honestly thought he might have the ability to see through to the other side. When she still received no answer she stepped closer and insisted, "Well, don't just stand there! Say something! You once swore to tell me the truth! Was that just an empty promise?!"

Neville whipped around, eyes blazing. "Fine! You want the truth?! It wouldn't have happened with Harry because he would've been focused on his surroundings and not how it would feel to take you in his arms and kiss you."

Hermione froze, her mouth open. She blinked slowly then finally managed to speak in a soft voice. "Neville? What are you saying?"

He leaned against the mantle and focused on the nearest candlestick to avoid seeing the look on her face. "I'm saying that I'm in love with you, damn it. Probably always have been and today my feelings got the better of my judgment and it damn near got you killed."

"Don't be absurd. That's impossible," she whispered.

"It's not impossible. It's what bloody well happened."

"I mean you can't...."

Neville finally looked at her. "Can't _what_?"

"Can't be in love with me."

"Excuse me?"

"You can't love me. I'm - I'm a mess. I'm damaged goods. I'm scarred inside and out." She pointed towards her head. "It gets very dark in here, Neville. I have terrible nightmares. I wake up screaming. If I forget to cast a silencing charm before bed I'll wake everyone in a two mile radius. Merlin, I'm a grown woman that can't sleep without a light on."

She began pacing around the room. "The first thing I do when I enter a building is search for and catalog all the escape routes. I still carry a full kit of supplies in my handbag like I'm some kind of fugitive. I've lived in my flat two years and haven't decorated in case I suddenly have to abandon everything and go on the run again. I can't even bring myself to own a pet out of fear of what would happen to it if I died or disappeared."

"So? The war affected you deeply. Join the club."

She shook her head violently. "I'm not finished. War baggage aside, I'm a wretched person to be around. I'm bossy. I'm regimented. I'm shut off. I'm cold and..."

"Stop right there." He swiftly crossed the room to stand in front of her. "You're not bossy. Ninety nine times out of a hundred you're the cleverest person in the room. Because of that you usually know the right thing to do and you aren't afraid to say so. That's called _leadership_ and you're brilliant at it. And of course you crave order. Look at all the bloody chaos you've endured. You aren't shut off, you're cautious because of everything you've been through. And whatever _idiot_ said you were cold never made the slightest effort to learn the first thing about you."

“But…”

"But nothing. I've known you since we were twelve years old, Hermione. I think I know what I'm getting myself into."

Her voice grew small as tears welled in her eyes. "I'm not the same person you met on that train." 

"I know that," he said, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ears. "Hell, none of us are. I may have developed a crush on a precocious little girl but I fell in love with a remarkable, confounding, head strong, complicated woman that I haven't a chance of figuring out in one lifetime. But I damn well want to try."

"Don't tease me, Nev. Please. Not about something as important as this." She moved closer and ran her hands up his chest, resting them on his shoulders before raising herself slowly on her toes.

"I'm not teasing about anything but I'd think much clearer if you didn't do that."

"Why?" Her face was now so close that he could feel the warmth of her breath on his skin.

"Because," he said in a hoarse voice, "when you're this close I find myself wanting to do far more with your body than just protecting it."

She closed her eyes and whispered, "Good. Because that's what I want as well."

Then her lips were on his and the world swirled around him, every nerve in his body bristling with a frantic energy and an untamed magic which threatened to overwhelm him. His knees quivered and he had to fight to maintain his balance as he wrapped his arms around her, savoring every sensation.

He finally regained his senses long enough to push her back in a vain attempt to catch his breath. 

"Wait," he panted. "I need to say something else. Before this goes any further you have to know that I'm not interested in a one night stand. I don't want an affair. This isn't just a physical thing. I want more than sex. I want the whole package. I want Sunday afternoons watching you do the crossword in the paper and arguments over who forgot to take out the bins. I want to hear you yelling at me for tracking mud into the house and leaving my pants on the floor one too many times."

He cradled her face in his hands. "I want to hold your hair back when you get sick. I want to fuss at you about not eating properly when you work too hard and threaten guys like Cormac who make life difficult for you. I want to learn how to make that ridiculously complicated coffee you drink and send you flowers and chocolate just because it's Tuesday and be the one comforting you at three in the morning after you've had a nightmare. I love you, Hermione Granger and if those things don't interest you please tell me now while there's still a chance for me to walk away with some shred of dignity intact."

Tears shimmered in her eyes as she said, "Neville Longbottom, I - I love you so much that I find myself struggling to put words together." She ran her fingers along the back of his neck, tugging him closer. "So I suppose I'll just have to find another way to express myself."

Before he could prepare himself she was kissing him again, at first slowly and tentatively but quickly growing in force and passion. He stumbled briefly due to the power of the emotion then collected himself long enough to lift her up and brace her against the wall so he could deepen their connection. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he began trailing kisses along her jaw. He was just starting to make his way down her neck when a loud pounding noise came from the direction of the front door.

"Nev? Mione? It's me! Harry! Open up!"

The pair reluctantly broke apart just far enough to gasp for air as Neville growled, "Damn. He's quicker than he used to be."

The banging continued and Hermione tipped her head back and rolled her eyes at the ceiling. "I swear, I'm going to hex him into next year."

"Not if I do it first," said Neville, stealing another kiss before setting her gently on the ground.

"Come on, guys! I'm sorry! Please open the door!"

Hermione and Neville made a hasty attempt to pull themselves together as they made their way to the entrance hall. As Neville started to open the door Hermione pushed him out of the way and flung it wide to reveal both Harry and Draco on the porch. 

"Damn, Hermione. How'd you manage to even block out my patronus..."

Before Harry could finish his sentence, Hermione had petrified him, moving aside slightly to allow him to drop flat onto the stone floor in front of a shocked Neville. 

Draco paused then looked at her and deadpanned, "I hope _you_ plan on levitating him because I have no intention of carrying his arse inside." He stepped over Harry and tipped his head to Neville as he did so. "Evening, Longbottom. Hell of a welcoming committee you have here."

Hermione levitated in Harry into the sitting room and deposited him on the divan before undoing the spell. He sat up slowly, rubbed his head and muttered, "Blimey, Hermione. Give a bloke the chance to apologize first, why don't you?"

She scowled and gestured towards Neville. Harry stood, hung his head and extended his hand. "Sorry, mate. I know you'd never knowingly put her at risk. It could've happened to any of us. I apologize for what I said earlier."

"It's okay. You were right. I was careless and..."

"Oh, Merlin. If I'd known I was going to have to witness a 'moment' I would've waited outside," snarked Draco.

"You. Hush," commanded Hermione, brandishing her wand at him. 

Draco, having seen the earlier display, raised his hands as he glanced at Harry.

"You may want to think twice before petrifying him, Hermione," said Harry. "He's got news."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16 - Clarification**

"You know who's after me?" Hermione asked, instinctively reaching for Neville's hand.

"Not yet," Draco said. "But I do finally have the complete breakdown of all the substances used on that parchment and Potter’s team are combing through the evidence for comparisons. We should have their preliminary findings within an hour."

Neville tugged her into his arms as she buried her face into his chest. He pressed his lips into her hair and whispered, "See. I told you. It'll all be over soon, love."

Draco beamed at this public display of affection. "So - you two. An official thing now?"

Neville tightened his grip on Hermione and glared at him. "Yeah. You got a problem with that?"

"Problem? Me? Not at all. I'm ecstatic because now I get to do this..." Draco thrust his hand towards Harry. "Pay up, Potter."

Hermione turned to confront her friend, who was desperately gesturing at Draco to shut up. "Pay up? You've been wagering on my love life?!"

Harry stammered then blurted, "So was Malfoy! Why aren't you mad at him?"

"Because he's a self-absorbed prat! I _expect_ this sort of behavior from _him_!"

"Wish I could be offended by that but since she's right..." Draco waved his still extended hand in Harry's direction. "Pay up. Ten Galleons."

"Hold on," Hermione snapped. "What exactly was the wager?"

"I said the pair of you'd realize how you felt about each other before we apprehended someone. Potter insisted it would be after."

"And what give either of you the idea that we had _feelings_ in the first place?"

"Because we are living, breathing human beings with eyes, Granger. Really all it took. Hell, I sussed it out that first day in the lab." Draco looked terribly disappointed in her then returned his attention back to Harry. "Come on then."

Harry grudgingly dropped the proper amount of coins in Draco's outstretched hand and mumbled something rude about the other man's parentage, which didn't faze Draco in the slightest.

"Care to go double or nothing on a wedding date?" the blonde wizard offered.

Hermione pointed her wand at him again. "Watch it, Malfoy."

Draco raised his hands in surrender. "I'm kidding. Just trying to defuse the tension."

She turned towards the window as Draco shook his head and mouthed "NOT kidding" to Harry.

"I can see your reflection in the glass, _ferret_ ," said Hermione.

"I knew that," lied Draco, shoving the coins in his pocket. "I was just checking to see how your situational awareness skills were progressing. Well done, Granger. Ten points to bloody Gryffindor."

In an effort to change the subject and save himself from additional hexes, Harry politely asked if Hermione would lift some of her recent wards long enough for him to check in and see if there was any progress on the analysis. He was gone less than a minute and when he returned there was an odd look on his face.

"Malfoy, come with me. I need your opinion on something."

"What? What is it?" asked Hermione.

"I can't say just yet. Give us a little time and hopefully we'll have some answers for you." Harry gave her a quick hug then did the same for Neville, taking the opportunity to whisper, "Keep her here and lock this place down tight, got it?"

Neville gave a discrete nod. He stepped back as Harry and Draco apparated away, then immediately began casting additional protective wards.

"What are those for?"

"Just a precautionary measure. If they're closing in on someone it might make that person nervous enough to try something desperate. Can't be too careful."

Hermione could tell there was more to it than that but decided not to press him on the subject. Instead she cast a few spells of her own then asked, "So - Did you mean what you said before?"

"About what?"

"What you said to Draco. About us being an official 'thing'."

Neville nodded. "Yeah. I suppose I could have worded that better and I ought to have gotten your input first but I certainly meant what I said."

Hermione took his hand and pulled him toward the divan. "Would you like my input now?"

Neville smiled as she took a seat and tugged him down next to her. "Absolutely."

She swung her legs over his so she was sitting in his lap then reached up and pressed her lips gently against his. "I agree whole heartedly."

"You have no idea how happy I am to hear that," said Neville, stroking her cheek and kissing her eyelids and the tip of her nose before moving to her lips.

Hermione kissed him back then whispered, "May I ask about something else you said earlier?"

"Certainly. What is it?"

"When you said you'd always been in love with me."

"Damn. Thought that part went past you." Neville ducked his head and blushed. "But yeah, on some level I’ve had feelings for you from the very beginning. I didn't always realize what those feelings were or how to label them but they were always there in some way. I mean, despite what Snape claimed, I didn't sit near you in every class just so you could whisper the answers to me."

"So when you asked me to the ball..."

"It was as more than a friend."

"But after I'd told you I'd already accepted Viktor's invitation, you said..."

"Of course I _said_ it was just as friends. I'd just been turned down by a girl I had a mad crush on. A bloke has his pride."

"Then why did you agree to the dance practices?"

"It was better than nothing. I may not have been your official escort to the ball but at least I got to dance with you."

She ran a finger down the front of his shirt. "You know, if I hadn't already agreed to go with Viktor then I would have gone with you."

"As a friend."

She sighed. "Yes. As a friend. Looking back it would seem that Ronald wasn't the only one who missed what was right in front of them. I suppose I owe him an apology now."

"It's okay. I was easy to overlook."

"But you see, that's the thing. I - I must have had _some_ sort of feelings for you back then as well, except I never realized it - at least not until we were at Kew Gardens."

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"You know how the aroma of Amortentia reveals the things you find most attractive, even if you don't acknowledge it or are unaware of your fondness for them, right?"

"Yeah. So?"

"So when we brewed the potion that day in class it smelled like three things to me - mint toothpaste, new parchment...and freshly mown grass."

"Really?"

"Really."

"You sure you weren't just harboring a secret passion for lawn maintenance?"

“I don’t think so.” She shook her head and pulled him into another kiss. They snogged for a long time before she sat back and said, "Dance with me.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” She swung her legs off him and stood, hand extended. “This ordeal will be over soon. Let’s celebrate. Dance with me.”

Neville stood and smiled. “I’d love to.” 

He flicked his wand towards an old radio sitting in the corner and Celestina Warbuck’s voice came floating out as he drew Hermione into his arms.

“I promise that I’ll try not to assault your toes the way I did poor Ginny’s at the ball.”

Hermione giggled then gazed fondly at him as they swayed to the music. “You know, Harry used to watch the map almost constantly while we were on the run. He saw you and Ginny together a lot. He got more than a little jealous.”

“Harry Potter?! Jealous of me?!” Neville snorted. “Now I know you’ve gone round the twist.”

“Why is that so difficult to believe?”

“For a whole list of reasons, most notably the fact that we both know Ginny Weasley has only loved one person in her entire life and it certainly wasn’t me.”

“She was your date to the Yule Ball.”

“Only because my first choice turned me down.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Besides, it was her idea, not mine.”

“Really?”

Neville nodded. “She didn’t want to be the only Weasley at the school not in attendance. She marched up to me, asked if I had a date yet then told me what time to pick her up. She said, ‘If ickle Ronniekins can get a date then I bloody well can too.’ “ 

Hermione laughed then blushed. “Sorry. I shouldn’t make fun of Ron like that.”

“Make fun of him all you like. The way he treated you that night, he deserves to have the mickey taken.”

“Heard about that, did you?”

“Unfortunately not until after the fact or I’d have laid into him right then and there. It wasn’t until we were back in our rooms that I found out what happened. You’ll be happy to know that all of us berated him for being an idiot.”

He spun her in time with the music then gathered her back in his arms.

“Thank you,” she smiled. “While Ron and I buried that hatchet a long time ago, it’s still nice to think that people cared.”

Neville stopped dancing and cupped her face in his hands. “I cared. I always cared.”

“I know,” she said, taking hold of his shirt and tugging him towards her. “I’m just sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.”

“We’ve got now. That’s all that matters.” He kissed her deeply, lifting her off her feet and digging his hands in her hair.

They stood, lost in the moment and in each other until they were interrupted by a loud banging noise at the door and Harry’s voice calling, “Guys? Let us in.”

They broke apart and Neville muttered, “Merlin’s beard. Once this is done you and I are developing an anti-interruption spell.”

“Agreed. We’ll make a fortune selling it to parents of small children and friends of Harry Potter.”

They laughed as they made their way to the front hallway but the merriment stopped as soon as they opened the door and saw the looks on Harry and Draco’s faces.

"Harry - what it is it? What's wrong?" Hermione tried to sound calm. It didn’t work.

Harry took a deep breath. "We've got news and I'm sorry, Hermione but... It's bad. Really bad."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17 - Collateral Damage**

Neville ushered everyone inside, giving Hermione a moment to steady herself.

"What is it? Tell me," she said.

"You know how I finally managed to isolate the rest of the ingredients used in the parchment you received," said Draco. "Well, the Aurors compared them against the samples taken from all the suspects they had. None of them even came close to an exact match."

Harry nodded. "They thought they'd hit a dead end until they noticed there _was_ an exact match to one of the elimination samples. The sweater Margaret wears in your office."

"Surely that's because she was there when the parchment arrived," Hermione said.

Harry shook his head. "If that were the case then we'd have found the same thing on your clothes or Neville's. You were much closer for far longer."

"But - but why on earth would Margaret want to hurt me?"

"That's what my office wanted to know. Seamus and Kingsley pulled together a team and went to her flat straight away. They got there and..." Harry struggled to find the right words.

Draco gave him a moment then finally took pity on the man. "What Potter is trying to find a delicate way of saying is they got there and your secretary was dead. Murdered."

Hermione's knees buckled and Neville grabbed hold of her as she whispered, "What?"

"I'm sorry, Hermione," said Harry. "She'd been hit with a killing curse. If it's any consolation it appears as if it happened quickly."

"But why? Harry, what's going on?"

"It appears Margaret had a flat mate who has now disappeared. They'd tried to clean up but we found enough trace evidence to conclusively prove that _this_ person is the one who brewed the potion found on the parchment."

"Who? Who is it?" demanded Hermione.

"Does the name Lyssa Furnese mean anything to you?" Harry asked.

"No. Never heard it before."

"She's a British witch a couple of years older than us. Lived in Europe from age five until she turned nineteen. Homeschooled by her father after her parents split up. She moved in with Margaret about seven months ago in an attempt to get close to you. Soon after she began dating Cormac McLaggen, giving her access to Ministry events at which you would be present."

He showed her a picture. Hermione squinted. "She looks vaguely familiar I suppose. Certainly not someone who stood out to me in any way."

"Exactly what she was hoping for."

"But to what end? Why would someone I've never met hate me enough to go to these lengths to kill me?"

"Because even though you don't know _her_ I'm certain you're going to remember her younger sister. A girl who got sent to live with her mother and took her maiden name after the parents split. A girl that Lyssa was - by all accounts - incredibly fond of."

Harry produced a photo of a young girl with curly, reddish brown hair.

"Marietta Edgecombe. Picture taken just before her second year at Hogwarts," Draco said. "That's the girl who ratted you out to Umbridge then got struck with the uncurable boils that spelled out 'sneak' on her face, isn't it?"

Hermione stood speechless, staring at the face from her past.

Harry nodded. "Both parents are now deceased so Marietta went into seclusion with Lyssa after the war. The two had been separated as children but remained close through letters and occasional visits. They apparently had dreams of reuniting and travelling the world once Marietta came of age and graduated. Instead, they ended up living pretty much as hermits until about a year ago when Marietta became ill with a form of dragon pox. It should have been easily treatable but she refused to see a healer and passed away two months later. Lyssa is convinced all of their problems stem from the jinx you placed on the DA registration form."

“How do you know all this?” asked Neville.

“Found the remains of a diary. She’d tried to burn it but must have been in a rush. Ernie’s team were able to piece together the basics from what was left.”

Hermione reeled back as if she'd been punched in the stomach.

"Hermione? You okay?" Harry asked.

She managed to gasp, "I'm going be sick."

Neville quickly rushed her into the nearby loo and held her hair back as she dropped to the floor in front of the toilet. She dry heaved several times then leaned back against him.

"It's my fault. This is all my fault."

"Hermione, don't..."

"It _is,_ Neville. Margaret, my neighbor, that Muggle child, you, everything.... All because of a rash decision I made."

"Stop. You can't think like that."

"Why not? It's true."

He had never seen her so defeated and it broke his heart.

"Listen to me," he said. "You're not the only one who regrets choices made during the war, okay? We all wish we could go back and change things."

"Your decisions didn't permanently maim someone who died as a result which then drove her sister to hurt – to _kill_ \- innocent people."

"No. Mine got one of my dearest friends kidnapped by Death Eaters and tortured for three months."

"What?"

"Luna. What happened to her was my fault."

"No, it wasn't."

"Yes, it was." 

He stared at a chipped tile on the floor, unable to meet her gaze. 

"We'd just left for Christmas break. There were only three of us in the train compartment. Ginny fell asleep before we'd even left the station but Luna was so excited about going home. She kept going on and on about all the things she was going to do with her father over Christmas and I was tired and hungry and worried about Gran and thinking of all the things I'd NEVER get to do with my father and I just wanted five minutes of quiet, so I asked Luna to go see where the trolley witch was...." His voice caught "...except she never came back. The bastards snatched her right off the train and it was _my_ fault. If she'd stayed with us we could have..."

"Stop, Nev. You couldn't have known what was going to happen."

"Exactly. Same with you. You couldn't have known what was going to happen to Marietta."

"No. Not the same. I _meant_ for that curse to hurt someone if they told. That's why I deliberately made it so it couldn't be reversed. I wanted something bad to happen to whoever revealed the DA...no matter who it was or what the circumstances were..." 

The realization that the curse could have just as easily impacted Neville or Luna or any number of her friends caused another wave of nausea to hit her.

Neville tightened his grip on her. "Hindsight is an illusion, Hermione. We only see what we want to see when we look back. You gave everyone fair warning when we signed that list that bad things would happen if we snitched. She's lucky it wasn't an unbreakable vow. At least she had a shot at a life afterwards."

"Some shot I left her with," Hermione scoffed.

"I'm not going to lie and say it was the best decision you ever made, love, but it was a war and hard choices were necessary. The fact is there are no more time turners - no way to go back and change the past. And if you can't go backwards then the only option is to look ahead and find the best way of moving forward."

"Sounds like something Luna would say."

"Yeah, well, just because she sees things different from the rest of us doesn't mean she isn't right most of the time."

They sat wrapped in each other’s arms until Hermione said, "What now?"

"Now? Now we stand up and we go back in there and figure out what our next move is."

He helped her to her feet and gave her time to collect herself before they rejoined Harry and Draco.

“You okay?” Harry asked, giving his friend a hug.

“As good as I can be, I suppose.”

Draco stood uncomfortably to the side, hands in his pockets. “I know you don’t believe it right now, Granger, but this isn’t your fault. It was a war. Bad things happened. It doesn’t excuse what this woman is doing and it doesn’t make her actions your responsibility. Don’t beat yourself up for choices someone else has made. It doesn’t help anything. I know.”

“Thank you, Draco. I appreciate that.” She took a deep breath then asked, “So, what’s all this?” as she gestured at a pile of stuff now spread out on a table in the sitting room.

“Items we found in Margaret’s flat that had Lyssa’s fingerprints on them. Thought you might see if there’s anything meaningful in what she touched that could help track her down.”

Hermione reached for a book but Neville stopped her, glancing nervously at Harry and Draco.

“It’s safe,” assured Draco. “Gave everything a good going over with my best detection spells. Only thing on them is fingerprints. See?” He ran his hands over the items and even picked up the book and rifled the pages, causing a store issued bookmark to fall out. “Perfectly fine.”

Hermione picked up the book mark and gasped, causing Draco to panic. “Damn! Did I miss something? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, Draco. It’s not magic. It’s just…” Hermione began pawing through the stack, pulling out a sample size box of chocolates, a postcard of a Van Gogh painting and a small desk calendar adorned with pictures of flowers.

“That’s how she did it.”

“Did what?” Neville asked.

“That’s how she found us. Margaret came from a pure blood family but she was fascinated by the Muggle world. On Mondays when I’d come into the office she’d ask so many questions about where I’d been and what I’d done that I started to bring her back a little something from every place I went. A volume of poems from my favorite bookshop, a box of sweets from the candy place next door, an exhibit at the National Gallery.” She picked up the calendar and looked at Neville. “Kew Gardens.”

“She knew where you’d been so she probably set up invisible detection spells that would alert her if you crossed any of those perimeters again.” Draco gave a low whistle. “Clever. You know, if this bitch weren’t a psychopath, I might actually be impressed.”

Harry elbowed the man and gave him a stern look before shifting his attention back to Hermione. “Anything else? Do you see anything that might tell us what she’s planning next?”

Hermione stared hard at the items before reluctantly shaking her head. “Sorry. Nothing jumps out at me.”

“It’s okay. We’ll figure it out. I promise,” Neville said.

“He’s right, Hermione. We’re all here to help,” Harry said. "So - what's our next move? Any ideas?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "I have an idea but we'll need Ron to make it work. Ask him to come over and I'll tell you all at the same time."

She looked at Neville. "It is okay if we do this in the library?"

"Good idea. You want to get things set up?"

"Okay. Thanks." She gave him a quick kiss and went to make the necessary preparations. As soon as she had left the room Neville's expression changed. He turned to Harry and fixed him with a cold stare.

"We find this woman, Harry," Neville snarled. "We find her _soon_ and we _end_ this. Do you understand me?"

"Yeah, Nev. I think I do." Harry nodded solemnly as he left to collect Ron.

It was then Neville noticed Draco studying him with an odd expression on his face.

"What's that look for?" challenged Neville.

Draco wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "Honestly? At this moment, I find myself dangerously close to actually finding you tolerable, Longbottom and I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"Oh, don't worry," Neville said, walking towards the door. "I'm sure by the time today's finished I'll have done or said something that'll change that for you."

"I certainly hope so," sulked Draco, following after him. "This entire incident has been tedious enough. Don't need to have to change my opinion about you on top of everything else."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18 - Insight**

"No! Absolutely not! Out of the question! No way!" Harry shouted.

"You can't be serious, Hermione!"

"I'm completely serious, Ronald!"

Draco rubbed the bridge of his nose and checked his watch. The 'golden trio' had been carrying on like this since Hermione had first put forward her plan and it didn't look like the debate was going to end any time soon. He began wondering if Neville had any snacks available but decided now probably wasn't an appropriate time to ask.

"I refuse to allow you to use yourself as bait!"

" _Allow_ me?! You wait just a minute, Ron Weasley!"

"You're being ridiculous!"

"And just how else are we supposed to flush this woman out of the woodwork, Harry? Send her an engraved invitation to turn herself in?!"

"We'll think of something!"

"And while we keep thinking more and more innocent people are getting hurt!"

"Hermione, just calm down..."

"Calm down?! Harry Potter, did you honestly just..."

Neville, having held his peace all this time, finally stood, slammed his fists on the desk and roared, "ENOUGH!"

Everyone fell silent. Even Draco found himself sitting a little straighter as Neville crossed the room, picked Hermione up and sat her on the long reading table so they almost were eye to eye.

Ron glanced at the pair then whispered to Draco, "Huh. 'Bout time. Harry pay up yet?"

Luckily for them Hermione wasn't listening. She was staring at Neville who had leaned in so close that their noses were almost touching.

"Is there ANY possibility of convincing you to rethink this?" 

"No. I can't take this anymore, Nev," she said, her voice cracking. "Living in fear, looking over my shoulder, wondering who might get caught in the crossfire next. I've done that for too many years and I refuse to do it any longer. I _won't_. Please don't ask me to." 

He kissed her then rested his forehead on hers. "Okay. Then what do you need from me?"

xxx

The group worked late into the night developing various scenarios for capturing their quarry. After everyone else had left Neville gathered Hermione in his arms and held her as she mourned Margaret until they fell asleep.

The following morning he rose quietly and fixed breakfast before nudging her awake.

“Wake up, love. I’ve made us something to eat then you need to get ready. You’re getting company.”

“Company?” Hermione murmured, rubbing a bit of sleep from her eyes. “Who?”

“Can’t tell you. It’s a secret.” Neville made a motion of locking a key over his lips.

“Nev, I'm sorry but I really don’t feel like seeing anyone right now.”

“You’ll want to see this person. I promise.”

Hermione sat up, now fully alert. “Why? Who is it? What have you done?”

“You know, for a witch with such an extensive vocabulary you seem to have a problem grasping the concept of a 'secret’ now, don’t you?” Neville helped her to her feet, gave her a kiss then propelled her towards the kitchen. “Eat. You’ll find out soon enough.”

Despite her best efforts, Neville held fast and refused to divulge any further details of Hermione’s guest. An hour later there was a knock at the door and Neville rushed to reach it before Hermione did. He checked the peephole and before admitting the visitor he turned to Hermione and said, “You can fuss at me all you like later. For now, please, listen to what she has to say.”

With that he opened the door to reveal Harry standing next to the still imposing presence of Minerva McGonagall. Neville greeted both of them warmly.

“Hullo, Harry. Hullo, Professor. Please, come in.”

He motioned for them to enter but Harry shook his head. “I can’t stay, Nev. Got a meeting with Kingsley. I can confirm the Professor’s identity has been verified so she’s safe to leave with Hermione.”

“Thanks, mate. See you tomorrow then.” 

Harry gave a nod then apparated away as Neville turned to Hermione and their former professor.

“Ladies. If you’ll follow me I’ve prepared the sitting room for you.”

As they entered Hermione noticed Neville had set out tea and biscuits for them and she briefly wondered how long he had this planned.

He gestured towards the two comfy wingback chairs he’d positioned in front of the fire. “I’ll leave you two alone. If you need anything, just shout.”

“Thank you, Mister Longbottom. You are a most thoughtful host,” Minerva said in her lilting Scottish accent. “Your Grandmother would be quite proud.”

As Neville slipped from the room the women took their seats. There was a brief silence before Hermione spoke.

“It’s wonderful to see you, Professor but I have to admit I’m at a bit of a loss as to why Neville asked you here today.”

The older woman poured two cups of tea and offered one to Hermione who accepted it gratefully. 

"It is my understanding, Miss Granger, that recent events have led to something of a crisis of conscience regarding certain decisions you made in the past. Mr. Longbottom quite rightly deduced I might possess some insight into that particular situation and felt sharing my information might prove useful to you."

Hermione fidgeted with her cup. “Did he tell you what’s happened?”

“No. I possess no specifics. Other than what I just told you, I was simply made aware that one of my former students required my help. That is all I needed to know.”

Hermione fought back the tear that was forming in her eye. “Thank you, Professor. I don’t really know what to do. It’s so awful and it’s all my fault…”

“Stop right there, Miss Granger. There are very few circumstances in life that are ever entirely the fault of only one individual. Even Voldemort required the complicity of others in order to enact his plans. Trying to carry the entire world upon your shoulders is a recipe for being crushed under its weight.”

“But it feels…”

“Feelings can be a wonderful thing but they can also be quite misleading. You of all people should remember the importance of reviewing the _facts_ while assessing a situation.” The elderly woman took a sip of her drink then added, “However, that being said, I know what you mean. There are many, many times – particularly during your tenure at school – when I felt something very similar to what I assume you are experiencing at this moment.”

“Really? When?”

“It would be easier to list the times when I _didn’t_ feel responsible for the things that happened during those years.” McGonagall gave a thin smile. “I used to pummel myself with guilt and questions. Should I have pressed Albus harder – forced him to be more forthcoming with the staff as well as with you and Mister Potter? Should I have noticed the quandary poor Severus found himself in? Should Pomona, Filius and I have banded together and more forcefully opposed the dearly departed Dolores?”

The sharpness of her tone indicated that she found the ‘departed’ part of the sentence her favorite thing about ‘dear’ Dolores Umbridge.

“Should I have more fully considered how entrusting a time turner to a young girl – no matter how brilliant and gifted – so she could further increase her already substantial scholastic workload while also keeping her rather impulsive friends alive would have impacted her physical and mental health?“

She shifted in her seat. “Then there are the faces of students that appear to me in the night. Young Colin Creevy. Cedric Diggory. Fred Weasley. So many promising lives cut short.” She took a moment before continuing. “I could keep going but I fear by the time I listed all my regrets you would be far older than I am at this very moment. Suffice it to say that I know what it is like to look back and wish that one could do things differently.”

“How did you get over all that?” asked Hermione.

Professor McGonagall looked at her in surprise. “Who said anything about ’getting over' it? You don’t 'get over' things like that, Miss Granger. You simply learn to move past and muddle forwards.”

“So how do I learn to do _that_? You don’t know what I’ve done.”

Hermione then began pouring out her heart. She talked about everything from the situation with her parents to regrets regarding all the lives lost during the war and finally her current predicament. She spoke for a long while but as she finished her resolve crumbled and she began to cry.

She rushed to summon a tissue to wipe her face. “I’m so sorry,” she sniffed. “I wish I could be as strong as you.”

"Poppycock,” admonished McGonagall. “Expressing emotion isn't weakness, Miss Granger. Far from it."

"But you never..."

"Just because I never cried in front of my students does not mean it never happened. I can assure you the tears flowed freely on numerous occasions. I simply held them back whilst in public so as to not frighten my pupils. Children look to the adults around them to determine how they are supposed to react in stressful situations. Seeing me fall apart would have done nothing to reassure them. We, however, are adults. There is no need for pretense between us."

“So - what should I do now?” asked Hermione.

“You do what you have always done, Miss Granger. You get on with the task at hand. You learn whatever lessons you can from each and every experience and try to utilize that insight moving forward. You try, as best you can, to enjoy the simple pleasures in each moment because, even under the best of circumstances, life is terribly short. You look to the future which lies ahead instead of obsessing over a past that you cannot change. Lean on the people in your life that care about you. I can personally attest that there are a multitude of people that care about you very, very much, not the least of which is Mr. Longbottom.”

The woman leaned forward, placing her teacup on the table between them. “But make no mistake. While these may sound like easy things to do, I assure you they are not. They are, however, the steps you _must_ attempt if you want to experience any sort of joy in your life. And you deserve joy, Miss Granger. You. Mister Longbottom. Mister Potter. Mister Weasley. All of you. You’ve been through enough suffering for one lifetime.” 

Hermione gave a weak nod. “So have you, Professor.”

“Thank you, my dear. I appreciate that.” Professor McGonagall gathered her robes about her and rose gracefully from her chair. “Now, as much as I would love to stay and catch up on the less perilous aspects of your life, I’m afraid I still have a school to oversee and yet another batch of students that require constant vigilance. I do hope when things settle down a bit that we can have another visit?”

“I would like that very much,” smiled Hermione.

The Professor made her way towards the door then stopped. “I hope I’m not speaking out of turn but, as you may already know, Mr. Longbottom has expressed an interest in joining us at Hogwarts during the upcoming school year as an assistant to Professor Sprout with an eye to eventually taking over that post when she retires. Is there any hope you might possibly consider pursuing a similar path? Filius has mentioned on more than one occasion his fervent wish that you might one day see fit to take his position teaching Charms."

“Really? I rather thought Professor Flitwick would be like Professor Binns and stay in his position for time immemorial.”

Minerva chuckled at the mention of the deceased History of Magic Professor that had continued to show up to teach classes even after he had passed away. 

“Not quite. Since I know I can trust you to keep this quiet, I’ll let you in on a little secret. Filius harbors a lifelong ambition to write the definitive text on Charms. It will be a massive volume covering its history, practice and implications on other branches of magic. He toils away at it during his free time but of late he’s been wanting to concentrate on the project more fully. Knowing that he would be leaving his pupils in your most capable hands would be tremendous encouragement to him. May I dare give him a glimmer of hope in that regard?”

"I-I can't think of much of anything other than my current situation right now, Professor but hopefully in the very near future I will have time to give that proposal the attention and thought that it rightfully deserves."

“He shall be elated at even the prospect of your consideration.”

Just then Neville stuck his head in the door. “Sorry. Don’t mean to barge in but I just wanted to check and see if either of you ladies needed anything.”

“We are fine, Mr. Longbottom. I was simply telling Miss Granger that I need to get back to the school but I hope that we can visit again very soon. Perhaps next time you will join us?”

“I’d like that very much, Professor.” Neville stepped into the room and gestured towards the fireplace. “Would you prefer to use our floo to return to school or shall we lift the wards so you can apparate?”

“I think, given the current circumstances, that your wards should remain firmly in place. I can open a temporary floo link to school. I promise that I shall seal it immediately upon my arrival so as to maintain your privacy as well as Miss Granger’s security.”

She made her way to the hearth and took a handful of floo powder. Before leaving she briefly surveyed the room then turned to face Neville. “I meant what I said before, Mr. Longbottom. Augusta would be incredibly proud of the man you have become. So would your parents.”

Neville swallowed hard. “Thank you, Professor. That means a lot. Honestly.”

The woman gave an almost maternal nod then cast the powder down and disappeared in a flash of green smoke.

There was a brief silence then Neville said, “I hope you don’t mind me sending for her. I just thought talking with her might help somehow.”

“It did. It helped very much. Thank you, Neville.” Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist. “Once again, you knew exactly what to do in order to help me.”

Neville rubbed her back gently. “I don’t know about that but I’m glad you feel better.”

“I do. I truly do.” Hermione paused then looked up at him and said, “She’s right you know.”

“About what?”

“About your parents being proud of you.”

“I’d like to think so but I’m not sure if they realize that I exist or who I am.”

“I _know_ they do.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Neville asked.

Hermione stepped back and summoned her bag then pulled out a handful of candy wrapper butterflies. “Because your mother gives me one of these every time I visit.”

Neville was incredibly touched that Hermione had kept the things his mother had given her but was unsure how it proved her point.

“She gives those to everyone,” he said.

“No. I checked. She gives used candy wrappers to others but you and I are the only ones who get ones twisted into butterflies.”

“Okay but I don’t see how that...”

“When did she start giving you butterflies instead of just the wrappers?” Hermione interrupted.

“Not sure. Sixth year, I think.”

“About the time you got your new wand, right? When you started feeling more in control, more confident in your magic?”

“I suppose. What’s your point?”

“Your mother started giving them to me when I mentioned that I was your friend and told her stories about what a fine man you had grown into. Don’t you see the connection?”

“No. Not really.”

“Think of the life cycle of a butterfly, Neville. It starts off as a vulnerable little caterpillar, crawling around trying to find its way. Next it gets wrapped up in a dark, lonely place while it undergoes a transformation. Then it fights its way out of that place to spread its wings and become what it was always meant to be.” 

Hermione held up one of the cellophane butterflies, looking from it to Neville. “Sound familiar? Your parents, at some level, realize what you’ve gone through and try to acknowledge that the only way they know how.”

Neville took the wrapper from her hand. He wasn’t sure if he entirely believed her theory but Merlin he wanted to. He stared at it and whispered, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She gave him another hug then said, “Come on. Take a walk with me.” 

Before he could say anything, she hastened to add, “Here. On the grounds. I want to learn more about your gardens. Then later I’d like to make you dinner. I’m not much of a cook but I can make a mean Spaghetti Bolognese. I saw a Merlot that would pair nicely with it in the cupboard.”

“Sounds lovely but what brought this on?”

“The Professor reminded me that even under the best of circumstances life is short so I’ve decided that I want to enjoy the pleasures in front of me right now instead of floundering about in a past that I can't change.”

She grasped his shirt collar and pulled into a long, slow kiss. When they finally parted, Neville whispered, “We are _definitely_ inviting McGonagall over more often.”

“I'm onboard with that plan.” Hermione smiled and took his hand. “Now, let’s go outside and take advantage of this beautiful sunshine while we have it.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19 - Comfort**

They took their time strolling around the grounds then came inside and lit some candles as Hermione attempted to teach Neville to cook the Muggle way. They were mainly successful, only having to resort to magic to get some wayward sauce stains off the ceiling.

After dinner Hermione took Neville by the hand and led him into the sitting room. He thought they were heading for their usual spot in front of the fire but instead she pulled him to the middle of the floor and turned to face him.

"Dance with me," she said.

"Again?"

"Yes. I’m hoping this time we won’t be interrupted."

She flicked her wand towards the radio and the familiar strains of the Yule Ball Waltz could be heard.

"Sorry for my appearance,” she said, gesturing towards the Muggle jeans and jumper she was wearing. “The one thing I didn't pack in my bag was a formal gown. Would you prefer I transfigure something to make myself more presentable?"

"No need. It’s not fancy clothing that make you beautiful. You’re stunning just as you are."

“Flatterer,” she blushed.

“Not flattery if it’s true, remember?”

She placed his hand on her waist and took the other in her own. “Do you think you can remember the steps?” she teased.

“Maybe. I had an excellent teacher but I was pretty distracted during my lessons. Might need a refresher course.”

“The teacher must not have been _that_ good if you got distracted.”

“She was wonderful. She couldn’t help it if _she_ was the distraction.”

Hermione’s eyes twinkled. “And what, _exactly_ , kept you from concentrating on what she was trying to teach you?”

“Everything. Her smile. Her laugh. Her hair. Sweet Circe, that glorious hair.” He ran his fingers through her thick brown locks before dropping his hands to her hips and tugging her close. “The smell of her shampoo. The warmth of her body when it brushed against mine. She overpowered all my senses. I was damned lucky I didn’t faint right then and there the way my pulse was racing. I was sure she could hear my heart pounding the entire time.”

“I know what you mean.”

“You do?”

“I do,” she said. “Because that’s exactly how I feel right now.”

She raised herself up on her toes and kissed him slowly before returning his hands to the correct waltz positions. “Right. Dancing, remember?”

“If you insist,” said Neville with a good natured sigh.

She flicked her wand back at the radio and the song started over from the beginning. It took a few bars for them to remember the correct sequence of moves and Neville stepped on her toes once or twice but they soon found their rhythm and before long they were twirling and dancing around the room. They were gearing up for a big finish when they bumped into an ottoman, lost their balance and landed with a thud on the divan, causing both of them to start giggling uncontrollably.

“You okay?" Neville finally managed to ask.

“I’m fine. You?”

“I’m good. Told you I needed a refresher course, though.” He made an effort to stand but Hermione stopped him. She pulled him back then swung her body around so she was straddling him. Before he could fully process what was going on her lips were on his and her hands were running through his hair. A split second later he responded, pulling her even closer and deepening the kiss.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he became aware of the fact that she was unbuttoning his shirt and he felt her lips making their way down his neck.

He managed to catch his breath long enough to ask, “What are you doing?”

She whispered in a low voice, “If you have to ask then I must not be doing it properly.”

She nibbled on his earlobe and he had to fight to remain coherent.

“No. I mean, I've got the general idea. I want to know _why_.”

She switched to the other side of his neck. “Again, if you have to ask...”

Neville dug deep, summoned every last bit of self-control he possessed and pushed her back a fraction of an inch. “Wait. I’m trying to make sure this is what you really want.”

“Of course it is.”

“Are you _sure_? When this happens I don't want it to be out of fear or pity or some misguided sense of obligation. It should only happen because you want it as badly as I do.”

“It is. I do. I want this. I want _you_ , Neville.” She brushed her lips over his then rolled her hips against him and murmured, " _Please_." 

In that moment the last shred of his restraint vanished. He held her as tight as he could and staggered to his feet. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he growled, “Bugger the stairs. Hold on.”

He apparated them directly to the upstairs hallway. He struggled to keep his balance as he briefly hesitated between their two doorways.

He wanted this moment to be special - to choose the place where she'd feel most comfortable. He lifted his lips from hers just long enough to ask, "Where will you feel safest?"

Her reply nearly stole the breath from him.

"With you," she whispered. "I feel safest when I'm with you."

**xxx**

When he woke up he was still curled protectively around her. He smiled into the mass of curly dark hair then moved a section aside to nuzzle her ear.

He heard a soft giggle. "Sorry. Should I tie it back to keep it out of your face?"

"No. I love it." He kissed her neck, enjoying the shiver of anticipation the action provoked in her. "I love you."

"I love you too." 

She snuggled closer as he whispered, "I wish we could stay like this forever."

"So do I." 

“Then why don’t we? Let’s tell the world to sod off and just stay holed up here together.”

There was a moment of silence until Hermione sighed, “Oh, Nev. I’d give anything if we could but you and I both know that’s not an option.”

“I know. A bloke can dream, though, can’t he?” He tightened his arms around her. "Can I tell you something?”

“Of course. Anything.”

“I'm terrified of what might happen to you after the vote." 

Once the group had started making plans to confront Hermione’s attacker, she had been adamant that they hold off enacting any strategy until after the vote on the werewolf referendum, fearing if anything went wrong it could jeopardize the legislation she'd poured her heart into.

"That's funny,” Hermione confessed. “I'm terrified of what happens after all this is over." 

Neville raised himself up on one elbow to look at her. "What do you mean?" 

She remained on her side, staring across the room. "If I live through this, then what? What happens when there's no more threat and you're no longer compelled to stay by my side? You're a brilliant and talented wizard with a world of opportunities and a full life ahead of him." 

He gently forced her to look at him. "And I want that life to include you. I love you, Hermione Jean Granger. That's not going to change. Ever. No matter what happens. Nobody is 'compelling' me to stay anywhere. I’m right where I want to be. Where I will _always_ want to be. With you." 

Hermione’s eyes welled up with tears. "You really mean that, don't you?" 

"Absolutely. I swear it. Now get some sleep,” he said, kissing her forehead. “We’ve got a long couple of days ahead of us."

Hermione rolled over to face him and ran her fingers lightly over his chest. "I can sleep later. Right now I have other priorities."


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20 - Deliberate**

The morning of the vote Neville was in the kitchen when he heard a nervous voice from behind him ask, “So. How do I look?”

He turned and smiled at the sight of Hermione in her dress robes. She had attempted to wrangle her hair into a bun and was anxiously trying to smooth an almost nonexistent wrinkle out of her sleeve.

“You look like a woman that’s about to change the world.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

After breakfast they made their way to the Ministry where they were met by Harry, Ron, Ernie, Terry, Seamus and Kingsley. Right before the proceedings were scheduled to commence, Neville gave Hermione a hug and slipped a chocolate bar into the pocket of her robe. 

“For luck,” he whispered. “Open it after you win.”

“Thank you,” she replied, daring to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before crossing the floor to take her seat. She settled in and gave Neville an anxious look. He gave her an encouraging nod as he stepped back into the crowd.

The debate between the two sides was spirited but mostly civil. After both parties made their final appeals it was time to take the vote.

It was close but to Hermione’s relief the legislation passed. Once the official count was announced she found herself surrounded by her friends, hugging and congratulating her while at the same time quickly and efficiently propelling her down the hall to Kingsley’s private office. She thanked them for their support then peered around in confusion.

“Harry? Where’s Neville?”

The atmosphere in the room changed instantly as everyone went deathly silent. 

“Harry?” Hermione asked again, this time with the slightest strain in her voice.

“Check your pocket,” said Harry.

“What?”

He quietly repeated, “Check your pocket.”

She pulled out the candy bar that Neville had given her earlier.

“Unwrap the paper,” he said.

Hermione was utterly lost but did as she was told. When she removed the outer paper she noticed that it had been folded and there was writing on the other side. She opened it and began reading to herself.

_My Dear Hermione -_

_It's 3 am and I'm sitting at the table across the room watching you sleep. Forgive my handwriting as I'm trying to keep the candlelight as faint as possible so as not to disturb you. It doesn't help that I also keep getting distracted by your face. You look so peaceful and all I want to do is curl up next to you and hold you close so you never have to worry about anything ever again._

_I'd like to go into far more detail about what I'd do after that but if you are where I hope you are then Seamus is nearby and he has a terrible habit of reading over peoples shoulders when he thinks they aren’t looking._

She cut her eyes sideways and caught the redhead blushing and darting his gaze upwards as if he suddenly found the pattern of the ceiling tiles incredibly fascinating. She fought a smile and turned her attention back to the letter.

_Don't worry. He'll be too embarrassed to try again for a while. I hope that made you smile. I love it when you smile, especially if I somehow had a hand in making it happen._

_I'm rambling now and I know it. I want to stay on this bit - where I talk about how much I love you and thoughts of you being happy because once I write the next part well...that's when I'm afraid everything changes. That's when you're going to be angry with me. Very angry. You may possibly even hate me but if what I'm doing keeps you safe then I hope it is a long and healthy hate._

_You see, I've made some alterations to the plan. Like I said, if you are where you're supposed to be then the group that is with you will fill you in on the details. Don’t blame them for any of this. I promised that I would do whatever it took to keep you safe and that's what I'm going to do. Everyone in that room with you understands what I mean. Please listen to what they have to say and, above all else, remember what I said the night of the gala. Stay alive. It really is all I ask._

_I'm getting back in bed now to enjoy a little more time with you. Sweet Merlin, you’re beautiful._

_All my love,_

_Neville_

_P.S. Congratulations on the vote. Even though its hours away, I know you convinced them to see your side and I am so incredibly proud of you and what you’ve accomplished. Carry that same determination on to whatever you choose to do next. Whatever it is, you’ll be brilliant at it._

The final two sentences caused Hermione's stomach to twist. "Harry? What does this mean?"

"It means that Neville asked us to implement an "Impera" protocol," Harry said.

"A what?"

"Impera. Nev said it was short for a latin phrase meaning 'divide and conquer'.

Terry spoke up. "It’s something Nev and a few of the Ravenclaw DA members came up with our last year at school. When we became Aurors we started using it in hostage situations."

"Hostage?” Hermione’s head snapped around at that word. “What are you talking about?"

“It’s like this, Hermione.” Ron stepped forward. "Say Seamus is a bad guy and he has it in for a particular person - Harry for instance. If he grabs Harry and I come along and try to stop him, I'm at a disadvantage."

Seamus moved behind Harry, holding his wand at his friend’s throat to demonstrate. 

“See?” Ron said, “He already has the person he wants under his control. I have no leverage. But if we manipulate the situation to where Seamus has to grab someone _else_ to get to Harry...."

Seamus then pretended to hold Terry hostage while Harry stepped next to Ron.

"...Then we've divided the bad guy’s attention and given us a distraction we can potentially use to our advantage. Seamus can't fully focus on the target,” Ron pointed at Harry. ”And the agnes at the same time."

"Agnes?" she asked.

Terry nodded. "It's not a girl's name. It's a term we used for the other person in the situation. Latin or French or something. Neville said it meant..."

"Lamb,” Hermione whispered. “Like a sacrificial lamb. Something offered up in place of something else. You're trying to tell me that Neville's offering himself up in place of me. That wasn’t the plan. That wasn’t the plan at all, Harry. The plan was for me to show up alone outside the coffee shop later today and hope that Lyssa would try for me there while the rest of you kept watch nearby.”

“I know that’s what you wanted, Hermione but that was never going to work. It left you totally exposed. Too many things could go wrong too quickly with no chance for us to intervene. Someone as devious as Lyssa was going to spot that set up a mile away. Besides, look at our history. When have any of the plans we cooked up ever worked the way we thought they would in the first place?”

“This is different and you know it, Harry!” She turned on Kingsley. “You! You’re his boss! Why didn’t you stop him?!”

The large man held up a note and sighed. “I’m not his boss anymore, Hermione. Neville sent me his resignation yesterday. Effective immediately. He knew what he was doing.”

She balled her fists in frustration and rounded on Harry and Ron. “You! You said you were his friends! Why didn’t you do something to stop him?!”

"He didn't ask our permission, Hermione,” said Ron. “He slipped a note in my pocket before we left the other night asking if Harry and I would back him if it looked like an Impera might become necessary. He sent word early yesterday morning saying it was a go. We've been under the protocol ever since."

“So what, exactly, does this protocol involve?”

Harry guided her into one of the office chairs then sat beside her. 

“In this case? Yesterday afternoon we ‘leaked’ a photo of Neville at the coffee shop that we’d managed to grab before it got published the first time around. Made sure a story got circulated about how he stops by there to buy you a coffee whenever you had something to celebrate. Then early this morning Rita Skeeter reported that her ‘sources’ indicated that anyone involved in the today's vote were under round the clock Auror protection and would be for the foreseeable future. As soon as it became apparent that the vote was going your way, Neville slipped out and went to the coffee shop. The hope was that Lyssa would feel like she had no other option but to grab him to lure you out.”

Hermione felt sick. “Did - did she? I mean, has he been…taken?”

There was another long pause before Ron knelt in front of her and took her hand. “If he’s not here by now then…yeah. She has him, Hermione. Now we just wait for you to receive instructions from her.”

The next few minutes were some of the longest of Hermione’s life. She only half listened as the others went over various scenarios and plans of attack while Seamus and Ernie placed a hidden tracking device in one of her shoes. She about ready to crawl out of her skin when there was a knock at the door and Kingsley’s secretary appeared wearing protective gloves and holding a small package.

“Minister? This just arrived by owl for Miss Granger. I followed all the precautions you gave and brought it straight here,” she said, placing the object on his desk with great care.

“Thank you, Venetia. Please leave, incinerate those gloves, clear the outer office and cast a few protective wards just to be on the safe side, okay?”

As the woman hurried from the room, Harry gave Hermione a hug then stepped back and assured her, “It’ll be all right. We’ve got you. Both of you.”

She gave him a nod as Kingsley tapped the parcel lightly with his wand. It floated a fraction of an inch over the desk then slowly opened to reveal an envelope and a silver quill feather. The envelope opened like a howler but instead of a scream they heard Neville’s calm, sure voice saying, “Hermione? It’s me. It’s okay, love. I’m fine. Don’t…”

He was cut short by the sound of a muffled blow and a thud, causing Hermione to flinch. The next voice was now unaltered but just as malevolent as the last time she'd heard it in Kew Gardens.

“If you ever want to see him alive again then take hold of the quill. It's a portkey. Come alone. The key will self-destruct as soon as it is used so no one will be able to follow you. You have two minutes to comply after this message ends. If you aren’t here by then I’ll kill him and deliver his corpse to you one piece at a time.”

Hermione didn’t hesitate. Harry tried to grab hold of her but she was too quick for him. She grasped the feather and felt the familiar, unpleasant hook sensation in her stomach before finding herself roughly thrown onto the cold, stone ground in what appeared to be the atrium of an abandoned building. 

As she struggled to her feet and fought back the waves of portkey nausea, she wasn’t sure exactly where she was but she didn’t care. She only had one goal.

Save Neville. 

Whatever the cost.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21 - Confrontation**

Hermione paused to let her eyes get accustomed to the darkness. She took one step then froze when she saw the still form of Cormac McLaggen lying on the ground behind one of the stone columns which seemed to surround the large open area. She knelt down but before she could check his pulse the entire area was flooded with a dazzling light and a now familiar woman’s voice rang out.

“Don’t bother. He’s alive – for the time being at least. Thought about killing him as soon as I'd realized the idiot had tagged along but I‘m considering letting him live simply because I know how much you dislike him.”

Hermione squinted against the brightness then slowly stood to turn in the direction of the voice. In the middle of the courtyard she saw Neville on his knees, his face bruised and lip bloodied, arms bound behind his back. Behind him stood an auburn haired woman holding his head back by his hair with one hand, her wand jabbed against his neck with the other. She had deliberately angled herself in such a way that if Hermione were to try and cast a spell on her it would almost certainly hit Neville first.

Neville locked eyes with Hermione and tried to use the sound of his voice to steady her.

“Hello, Hermione. Fancy running into you here.”

Hermione fought to keep her wand hand from trembling. “Hello, Nev. How are you?” 

Neville shrugged as best he could in his current condition. “Oh, you know. Been better. Been worse. Have you met my new friend?”

“I understand that we’ve met before but I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced,” said Hermione, taking a slow step in their direction.

“Well, then - let me correct that. Lyssa, this is Hermione. Hermione, Lyssa.”

“Hello, Lyssa. Nice to finally make your acquaintance,” said Hermione, taking another step closer.

“Think you’re cute, the pair of you? Think this is some kind of game, do you?” Lyssa snarled.

“We’re just trying to make the best of a bad situation, Lyssa,” said Hermione. “Speaking of, why make things any worse for yourself than they already are? I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere so why don’t you let Neville go? You’ve got no issue with him. I’m the one you want.”

“Yes, but I’ve got the feeling that hurting him will hurt you as well.”

Hermione swallowed hard. “You’re right but you’ve got a reason to kill me. The courts will take that into consideration. An eye for an eye. A good lawyer could make a compelling argument in your favor in that case. If you kill Neville, that’s another story. Why create additional obstacles for yourself? Let him go and I lay my wand down.”

“That's an interesting theory but you forget about poor little Margaret,” snapped Lyssa. “I’m already done for as far as the courts are concerned. The dementors can only kiss me once. In for a knut, in for a galleon, don’t you think?” 

She dug her wand a little deeper into Neville’s neck. “I didn’t plan on killing her, just so you know. Turns out she was too perceptive for her own good. Figured me out not long before your friends from the Ministry came to visit the flat. Shame really. She was a good kid but I couldn’t let her stop me once I’d gotten this close.”

“You’re right. It was a shame. Margaret didn’t have anything to do with this. She was collateral damage in someone else’s fight – just like so many of us during the war. Just like Marietta.”

Lyssa’s eyes flashed and Hermione silently hoped that she hadn’t seriously overplayed her hand.

“How dare you compare yourself to her?! Marietta suffered because of you! She died because of _you_!”

“I don’t deny that I hurt Marietta but it was never my intention.”

“Damn your intentions! She didn’t know what she was doing! She was a frightened child!”

“I know she was,” Hermione said, edging nearer. “We all were. We were all children thrust into a life or death struggle against Voldemort and his supporters. Children doing everything we could to remain undetected while we trained to fight against an enemy that had no problem killing us. Everyone that signed that document knew the risks. It could have been any of us that cracked. It just so happened to be Marietta. I’m sorry about that. Truly I am. After the fact I tried to find a way to reverse the enchantment but I couldn’t. The best I could hope for was that time would minimize the effects.”

“Really? Work as hard on that as you did getting rights for house elves and bloody werewolves, did you?” Lyssa spat.

“Yes,” said Neville, trying to distract the woman’s fury for a moment. “Yes, she did. Hermione's not heartless but there’s only so much one person can do.”

“Not according to our Margaret,” mocked Lyssa. “According to her, the great Hermione Granger can do anything she sets her mind to.”

“If that were the case then I’d have ended the whole mess before we ever got to the point of needing a group like Dumbledore’s army.” 

Hermione shifted her feet, hoping she was buying enough time for Harry and the others to locate them. 

“We all liked Marietta," she continued. "She was a good friend to Cho and one of the few Ravenclaws that didn’t ignore or bully Luna.”

“She had a good heart but she scared easily,” Lyssa conceded. “Ever since she was tiny she was afraid of her own shadow. She had no business being in the position she ended up in.”

“You’re right. None of us did,” said Neville softly. “Marietta was sweet and kind and wanted to protect her mother. She wanted to do the right thing but back then it could be really hard to know what the right thing was.”

“Not like now,” said Hermione. “I won’t insult you by pretending like I knew Marietta better than I did but I have to wonder if _this_ is what she’d want you to be doing.”

Lyssa’s expression turned cold. “Well, thanks to you she’s gone now so I can’t very well ask her, can I?”

“No but I’m sure you knew your sister well enough to know the answer, don’t you?” Hermione swallowed hard. “Please. Let Neville go.”

“Not sure if I want to,” Lyssa said, tightening her grip on Neville’s hair. “My plan was to kill you both at the same time but now I think it might be more satisfying to have you watch him die first, knowing that it was all your fault.”

“I have enough regrets, Lyssa. One more in my last moments won’t be too large a burden.” Hermione hoped the woman couldn’t tell she was lying. “Don’t add to your list if you don’t have to.”

Lyssa pretended to consider the request. “Throw me your wand and I’ll think about it.”

“Hermione, don’t,” pleaded Neville. “Leave. Now. While you have a chance. She’s going to kill me no matter what.”

“We both know I’m not going to do that, Nev,” said Hermione, taking another step.

“That’s close enough,” barked Lyssa. “Throw your wand towards me.”

“Hermione. Please. I’m begging you.”

A soft noise off to the side caused them to jump as two good sized mice scurried from behind a pile of rocks. In a split second, Lyssa turned the pair to stone then hit them with a blasting spell, reducing the pair of rodents to dust before quickly returning her wand to Neville's neck.

She smiled maliciously at Hermione. "Hope those weren't friends of yours."

Hermione's shoulders sagged. She adjusted the grip on her wand then slowly dropped it into her other hand.

A tear made its way down Neville's face. "Hermione....no..."

"Sorry Neville but if you go, I go.” She inhaled deeply and just before she threw the wand she added, “If Harry’s right and there is an afterlife then I’ll see you on the other side, my love.”

With that, Hermione tossed her wand onto the ground in their direction. Lyssa immediately summoned it and turned it over in her hand.

“Starting quite the wand collection today. Your’s. Your boyfriend’s. Once I relieve poor Cormac of his I’ll have one for almost every day of the week.”

She stroked Hermione’s wand and smirked. “As a matter of fact, I think I’ll use yours to kill Neville. That’ll give the press something to write about, won’t it? Maybe I’ll try a crucio on him first. Make sure it works properly for me.”

As she flicked her wrist in Neville’s direction, several things happened almost simultaneously. 

First the wand Lyssa was holding immediately transfigured into a colorful bouquet of flowers which then began to beat her around the head and neck. At the same time, Neville threw himself against her legs, causing her to lose her balance and pitch backwards. As she fell Neville was startled to see Cormac grab Hermione and drag her behind one of the stone columns while one of them cast an unbinding spell which freed him.

Neville sprinted towards the column nearest him as he heard Hermione and Cormac firing spells at Lyssa, who had managed to take cover as well. Neville summoned his wand then peeked out to try and get a fix on Hermione’s position. He saw Lyssa darting between columns in the direction he thought Hermione was in so he shouted, “Hermione! Look out!”

As he’d hoped, Lyssa hesitated briefly as she tried to get a fix on one of their positions. Neville was just about to hit her with a curse when he heard Hermione cry, “Petrificus Totalus!” as another voice cast a full body bind spell. He then watched as Lyssa froze and fell to the ground, bound by a multitude of unbreakable ropes.

Seconds later Neville saw Hermione step from behind a column a few feet to his right. He breathed a sigh of relief and started towards her but he’d only taken three steps when there was tremendous blast and his world went dark.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22 - Aftermath**

When Neville opened his eyes he was greeted by the sight of Seamus Finnegan’s smiling face hovering over him.

“Good morning, sunshine!” said Seamus. “Decided to join us, have ya?”

Neville glanced around the courtyard as he struggled to stand. “Hermione? Where’s Hermione? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” assured Seamus, helping his friend to his feet. “Getting ready to tear the arms of the healers making her go through an assessment before checking on ya, but other than that she’s right as rain.”

“And Lyssa?”

“In custody. Kingsley’s personal protective detail is currently escorting her direct to Azkaban. You’ll not be worrying about her anymore.”

Neville cracked his back and rubbed his sore neck. “What the hell happened?”

“We were able to track ya down but we were having trouble apparating through the wards the girl’d erected so Harry gave me permission to do a hard entry.” Seamus grinned as he used the technical term for ‘blowing a big hole in the wall.’ “I used some of me best stuff. May have overdone it a bit, though.”

Neville looked at the gaping, ten meter opening in the stone wall and the piles of rubble strewn around them then raised an eyebrow to the Irishman.  
  
“Overdone it? Really? You think?”

“Hey! How was I to know ya were standing so close? Would ya rather we waited politely outside?”

“Sorry. Point taken,” said Nev. “How'd you know where to find us? She found the tracker on me almost immediately."

“We knew she'd most likely disable the one on you so we placed one in Hermione’s boot while she was in King’s office. In case both of those failed us we had some additional assistance.”

“What kind of assistance?”

Seamus was about to explain but then smiled and tipped in the direction behind Neville. “I’ll just let yer girl tell ya. I'll not get a word in once she gets hold of ya anyways.”

He turned but all he saw was a blur of dark hair before Hermione pushed Seamus aside and launched herself into Neville's arms.

“Nev! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine thanks to you,” said Neville, gripping her fiercely. “You were magnificent.”

She sniffed and tightened her hold on him. "Why'd you change the plan like that? This was incredibly risky."

"Anything we were going to do was risky, love. I just tried to come up with something that put you in the least amount of danger. If we'd let you go to the shop like you wanted, then even with an Auror team on standby Lyssa could have utilized polyjuice, cloaking spells, imperius...any number of ways to sneak past us and kill you before we had the chance to act. I hoped by going this route that Lyssa would feel safe enough to go on a bit of a rant before trying to kill us, instead of shooting first like she did at the gala."

"Still, there were better ways to achieve that goal," chided Hermione.

"I'm sure there are at least a dozen and I look forward to having you explain all of them to me one day. As it was, I felt making myself the primary target was the best way of protecting you. Besides, the odds were good if we tried it this way then she'd chose a remote spot like this to meet and that would minimize the chance for any more collateral damage. I knew you'd be worried about that." 

He sighed and took her hand in his. "I'm sorry I went behind your back but I knew you'd never okay to this beforehand. I hope you'll be able to forgive me but I certainly understand if you...."

Hermione didn't let him finish that thought. “Of course I forgive you, Neville. But once my heart rate returns to normal I do reserve the right to be very cross with you.”

“Love, as long as you are alive and safe then I'll happily accept any consequences that come my way.”

Before he could continue, Hermione threw her arms around his neck and kissed him with an intensity that bordered on desperation.

When she finally pulled away Neville whispered, “Wow. Okay. If that's what happens in the meantime, you can be as cross as you like.”

He ran his hands along her face and arms, checking for injuries. “What about you? Are you okay? Did Cormac hurt you?”

“Cormac wasn’t anywhere near me.”

“But I saw…”

“You saw someone that _looked_ like Cormac.”

“Well if it wasn’t McLaggen then who was it?”

Hermione grinned. “I’ll give you a hint. Cormac has said a lot of things to me over the years but he’s never once ordered me - and I quote - to ‘take cover, you stupid, bloody Gryffindor.’ ”

Neville’s eyes almost popped out of his head. “Malfoy?!”

Hermione nodded. “When he saw the article in the paper he realized you must have changed the plan so he convinced Harry to quietly take Cormac into custody for some minor infraction. They got some of his hair and clothes then Draco used one of the batches of polyjuice he had on hand for Astoria to transfigure himself just before you were taken.”

“I thought Cormac was acting a bit odd when he grabbed hold of us outside the coffee shop but I honestly had other things on my mind so I didn’t give him much thought.”

“Apparently neither did Lyssa. After she clonked him on the head he pretended to be unconscious until she got distracted then he pulled me out of the line of fire and freed you."

Neville glanced at the tattered remains of the bouquet of flowers lying on the ground a few feet away. “One of Fred and George's trick wands?”

Hermione nodded. "I don't just carry potions and travel bags around with me. I also keep a selection of Weasley products on hand, including one of these."

She pulled up the sleeve of her robe just enough to reveal hidden wand holster. "I made the switch when the mice distracted her."

"I was wondering about them."

"I wasn't sure what we might need in the way of diversions so I dropped a couple on the ground when I checked on 'Cormac'. They were toys I'd developed for Crookshanks when we were at school. They operate via a wandless, non-verbal spell. They seem to have done the trick today."

“You clever, clever girl.” Neville wiped a bit of dirt from Hermione’s cheek with his thumb then his voice dropped to a whisper as he pulled her face towards his. “Sweet Merlin. I love you so much.”

His lips were almost on hers when they heard a soft ‘ahem’ nearby. They looked up to see Harry standing there smiling.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Neville. “We are _so_ developing that anti-interruption spell.”

“Damn straight,” Neville agreed.

“Sorry to break up a moment,” said Harry. “But I wanted to let you know Kingsley’s going to request that Lyssa be turned directly over to the dementors once she arrives at Azkaban.”

“No,” said Hermione in a firm voice.

“No? No....what?” asked Harry.

“No. I don’t want her executed,” insisted Hermione.

Neville sat in silence as Harry spluttered, “W-wait? What? Hermione, she tried to _kill_ you. She tried to kill _Neville_. She _did_ kill Margaret. How could you not…”

“I’m not saying she shouldn’t be held accountable, Harry. She needs to go to prison for what she’s done but let’s be honest – she’s as much a victim of the war as any of us. Yes, she’s done horrible things and she needs to face the consequences of that but if we didn’t sentence truly evil people like Bellatrix and Barty Junior to the dementors after the first war then how can we justify doing it to Lyssa?”

By that point Kingsley had joined them and Hermione shifted her attention to the Minister. “Please, Kingsley? Can’t you hold her in Azkaban and see if getting her some professional help makes a difference? If not, she’s still in prison where she can’t hurt anyone. If so, then maybe – just maybe – we’ve kept one more person from being another casualty of this awful war. I don't want any more Mariettas on my conscience.”

Kingsley regarded her carefully then said, “I will certainly take your request under advisement, Hermione. For now, though, I think you and Neville should go home and get some rest. You certainly deserve it after today.”

As the Minister led Harry away, Hermione looked at Neville and said, “I’m sorry if you don’t agree with what I said about Lyssa. I hope it didn’t make you angry.”

“Angry? Angry that the woman I love has a heart bigger than it has any right to be given everything she’s gone through? Why in the world would that ever make me angry? Confused? Maybe. Confounded? Absolutely. Vexed? Possibly. Angry? Never.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Hermione pushed a stray bit of hair from Neville’s forehead. “Sweet Merlin. I love you so much.”

He reached out and pulled her into another passionate kiss. After a moment she leaned back, smiled and said, “Come on. We need to find Malfoy and say thank you for saving our lives.”

As she led him across the courtyard, Neville couldn’t stop chuckling. 

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“Nothing. Just filing 'let’s go thank Malfoy for saving our lives' under the growing list of things I never dreamed I’d hear you say.”

They walked up behind Draco, now in his true form wearing his own clothing, as he stood burning Cormac’s garments, muttering how McLaggen should serve time for his fashion sense if nothing else.

He flinched then stood awkwardly as Hermione hugged him without warning. “Thank you, Draco.”

Neville clasped the man’s shoulder and added, “Yeah. Thanks, mate. I understand your little performance saved our lives."

Draco pulled a face as he carefully extricated himself from both of them.

"Scurrilous lies. If I hear that repeated in public I shall sue for slander."

"Oh, don't worry, Draco. You're secret is safe with us," Hermione promised.

Neville nodded. "Yeah. I mean, who'd believe us anyway?"

"Exactly," Draco sniffed and straightened his sleeve. “Besides, even if I _were_ to have assisted in some _small_ capacity, it would have been due solely to the fact that my wife and son have become inexplicably fond of Granger. I have enough difficulty maintaining any semblance of order in my household. Last thing I need is having to explain her death to a two and a half year old.” 

“Either way, thank you Draco. Honestly,” said Hermione.

Draco shrugged and tried to feign indifference but as the couple turned to leave he called out, “Hermione?”

Both Neville and Hermione stopped. "Yes?" she replied.

"Save Scorp a dance at the wedding."

Hermione smiled warmly. "Only if I get one with you as well."

Draco snorted and looked at Neville. "Get her checked by the healer again, Longbottom. She obviously hit her head during the scuffle."

"Will do,” said Neville, taking a step back towards him. “And Malfoy?"

Draco eyed him warily. "Yes?”

Neville extended his hand. "If you _had_ saved us, I'd be extremely grateful. I might even owe you one."

Draco stared at the outstretched hand a moment before taking it. 

"Good thing I didn't then, eh?"

"Probably. Cause then I might be dangerously close to finding you tolerable and I don't know how I'd feel about that."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that,” said Draco. “I'm sure to do or say something in the very near future that would correct that situation."

"I certainly hope so." Neville shook his hand then leaned over and whispered so Hermione couldn’t hear, "Don't wager with Harry on a wedding date without talking to me first."

Draco tried rather unsuccessfully not to smirk and, with a nod of his head, he sauntered away.

Neville draped his arm around Hermione’s shoulders and set off in the opposite direction.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

Neville kissed the top of her head. "I'll fill you in later. You ready to go home?"

“I'd love to but where might that be?”

"Anyplace you want, love. Anyplace you want."


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23 - Epilogue**

**Epilogue - 4 Years later**

Hermione entered the bedroom, kicked off her shoes, flopped onto the edge of the bed and began brushing her hair. Moments later Neville appeared in the doorway. He watched her for a while then crawled up behind her and started kissing her neck.

"Careful,” purred Hermione. “Best mind your manners or people will talk."

"They already are. Don't tell anyone but there's a rumor going around that I'm sleeping with the Charms teacher."

Hermione’s hand clutched an imaginary set of pearls at her neck. "Scandalous! However, I hate to inform you but your secret is about to be revealed."

"Drat! What's given me away?"

She held up her left hand to show off a pair of rings adorning her fourth finger. "Other than the fact that we've been married for three years?"

Neville rested his chin on her shoulder. "Hmmm. Think they've noticed that, have they?"

"They're bright kids. I think they've picked up on the fact that the Herbology professor and the Charms teacher share a name _and_ a residence."

"Might have been a clue, I grant you," said Neville as he began nuzzling her earlobe.

"If that hasn't keyed them in then I'm guessing the news of my upcoming maternity leave may be a clincher."

Neville stopped mid-nibble. "News of wha-what?"

"Maternity leave. Surely you've heard of it. It's a period of absence from work granted to a woman before and after the birth of a child."

Neville turned Hermione slowly around to face him.

“Wait. Maternity. You mean – I...you…we…”

Hermione smiled and took his hand. “Yes, Neville. I…you…we… are going to have a baby.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“How? Sorry. I mean… I know _how_. I meant…when?”

“I'm about two and a half months along. Which means in a little over six months you’ll be a father.”

“I’m going to be a father,” Neville repeated, still clearly trying to process the words.

Hermione nodded patiently as her husband tried to get his head around this fact.

“Yes, Neville.”

A huge grin slowly crept across his face. “I’m going to be a father?”

“Yes, Neville.”

The enormity of this revelation then more fully descended on him and his eyes grew wide. “Merlin’s beard. I’m going to be a _father_.”

“Yes, Neville.” Hermione paused then asked, “So…how do you feel about that?”

“Feel? I’m happy, of course. Anxious. Scared. No, strike that. Terrified. Overwhelmed.” He took a deep breath then his face beamed. “Overjoyed. We’re having a _baby_.”

He placed his hands gently on her stomach as he looked her in the eyes. “How do _you_ feel?”

“Happy. Anxious. Scared. Terrified. Overwhelmed. Nauseous. Overjoyed. We’re having a _baby_.”

The pair laughed softly then Neville asked, “Do you know what we’re having yet?”

She shook her head. “I did the confirmation charm but not the gender one. I wanted to tell you first and see if you wanted to know or be surprised.”

Neville caressed her cheek. “Whatever you want, love. I’m just over the moon that we’re going to be parents.”

Hermione pondered for a moment then summoned her wand and recited the incantation. A few seconds later she looked at Neville and announced, “It’s a girl.”

“A girl,” Neville kissed his wife’s forehead. “A brilliant, beautiful little girl - just like her mother.”

He took Hermione in his arms and situated themselves among the pillows at the head of the bed. 

They lay snuggled together until Neville asked, "Got any ideas for her name?"

Hermione nodded. "For a girl, I was thinking Alice Rose might be nice. Alice for both of our mothers and Rose for my favorite flowers."

She glanced at the bouquet at their bedside and thought back to the night Neville proposed by filling the Hogwarts clock tower with planters filled with Rosebay and the roses her mother thought smelled like the future. Hermione carried a bouquet of those same flowers two months later when they got married in a small ceremony in the Janus Thickey ward so Neville’s parents could be present.

"Alice Rose,” Neville whispered. “Sounds perfect. I love it."

He took her hand and raised it to his lips, then laced their fingers together. "So, when can we tell people?"

Hermione thought carefully then said, "Let's wait for now. Keep it to ourselves for a while."

"Think there's a bet going on about this as well?"

Hermione giggled. "They've wagered on everything else we've done for the past four years. Why should this be any different?"

“Whose turn is it for us to tip off this time - Malfoy or Potter?"

"Merlin. I've lost count. I suppose we'll give one the due date and the other the gender?”

“Good idea. Think they've clocked that we've been deliberately messing with them all this time?"

“No, which is really funny because I think even Scorpius has figured it out by this point." Hermione kissed her husband on the cheek. "Oh well, maybe they’ll have caught on by the next one."

"Next one? I like the sound of that."

“So do I..." Hermione sighed contentedly. “So do I.”

xxx

Neville made good on his promise to hold back Hermione's hair when she was sick during all three of her pregnancies. They remained at the school until the children graduated and in their spare time they developed a magical study facility along the lines of Kew Gardens on the grounds of the Longbottom ancestral home. Along the way they created a potion which greatly extended both the length and quality of Astoria's life for which Draco and Scorpius were eternally grateful.

xxx

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read this far I give you my wholehearted thanks. I've never written for this pairing before but I really enjoyed imagining their relationship. As always, kind and constructive feedback is always welcomed. :)
> 
> If you liked this story I invite you to read the others I have posted on this site and please comment on them as well!


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